The Canary's Cage
by hermit nim
Summary: [Ronan the Accuser/OFC][COMPLETED] 'Inhuman,' he called her, which made her feel less and less the more he addressed her as such. She lost pieces of herself as one might lose pieces to a puzzle. 'The only reason you do not join your kin in death is because you are of use to me. The moment you are lacking in worth, you will fall to judgment.'
1. Metal Strings

**Summary**:

[Ronan the Accuser/OFC] 'Inhuman,' he called her, which made her feel less and less the more he addressed her as such. She lost pieces of herself as one might lose pieces to a puzzle. 'The only reason you do not join your kin in death is because you are of use to me. I grant you the right to live, so that I can see to my arrangements without the peril of death. The moment you're lacking in worth, you will fall to judgment.'

**A/N**: This can quite possibly go down as a Mary-Sue fic. I'm not sorry in advance! I needed a getaway from work and decided to write this thing of a thing… We'll be following the GOTG movie as an outline, but of course, with the OFC present. I wanted her to be ideal, so I gave her a superpower. At first, I was willing to write Crystal x Ronan, but I feel more for Crystal x Quicksilver. This is my own take on Inhuman x Ronan action. I hope you all enjoy it. Feedback is a good motivator for all writers, so feel free to critique as much as you desire.

**A/N/N:** The OFC will be nameless. Feel free to envision her anyway you choose.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the Marvel universe, although I'm sure many of us wish to become part of it.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

01 – _Metal Strings_

_The answer isn't found in the dark._

A sound pierced through her ears, for long she'd sat in an empty room neglected with little light, and hardly any noise at all. Any _real_ sound was enough to startle her from her thoughts and it pulled her abrupt from her faraway dreaming. She'd been back on earth, standing outside her home in the fields, taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

It seemed sad to remember the details of a house, when her parents were since forgotten, and reduced to voices in the distance and a coupling of blurred faces.

It was sometime before his reality had conquered and destroyed hers that she wished to recall upon. She was just a child then, walking towards him when she should have been running steadfast in the opposite direction. She was convinced that even death would have been a less unfortunate fate, than to end up captured by the Kree commander.

_'Inhuman,'_ he called her, which made her feel less and less the more he addressed her as such. She lost pieces of herself as one might lose pieces to a puzzle. _'The only reason you do not join your kin in death is because you are of use to me. I grant you the right to live, so that I can see to my arrangements without the peril of death. The moment you're lacking in worth, you will fall to judgment.'_

The door to her room opened, the bolts having been twisted to unlock. Exolon monks to the highborn Kree, Ronan the Accuser, came in wearing robes of black. They only came to her whenever it was time to eat, allowing her to sustain herself with small rations of food and water to drink. She was incredibly thin and short for a human. The deep blue garb she wore (skin color of the Kree Empire) loosely clung to her now womanly figure. Much had changed about the girl, but time stood still in her cage.

Her concern was gauged from the fact that it wasn't time to eat and that his servants were standing there with a look of expectancy. She followed after them when they turned to leave. Hala was a beautiful place, not that she had spent much time outside the walls of her bedroom to explore. She was given drawing paper and the city was one of the first things she drew, having committed it to memory.

_'He's finally going to kill me,'_ was a thought that suddenly plagued her mind. The more frightening part about it was that she found it to be inviting. She hadn't been placed in any situation that meant assisting him. He was known as the Supreme Accuser, noble by blood, and proven as competent. When would he actually be in need of her aid?

It was ridiculous enough to make her laugh, if she could even accomplish that much. Being isolated had done nothing for her vocal cords. She doubted she could carry on a normal conversation anymore.

They went aboard the Dark Aster, a ship the girl had never seen in her time. There were shots fired once the doors closed and she trembled at the sounds of the Kree educational system. Hala wasn't attacking them openly or else she would have been dead long ago. Gunfire simply wasn't something she was used to hearing. The large ship gave a monstrous roar as it flew towards the galaxy.

She walked down the long corridor with a visible shiver. The halls consisted of dark mechanical structures that were dimly lit. She could already feel the ache building in her tired limbs from having been inactive. She felt fragile on an uncomfortable level, swaying slightly until they entered what appeared to be a rather large chamber room, where the monks stopped. She collapsed with her hands planted on the floor, when she heard the sigh of metal latches releasing.

More servants gathered, as a tall broad figure walked forth from the shadows. The lighting in the room was scarce and pale, making it difficult to see properly. It became clear when a set of dark purple eyes caught her staring at him. They glowed unnatural against his blue skin, as he stood there proudly with nothing to keep her eyes from roaming over his bare form. The servants poured water upon his skin and scrubbed him clean, before throwing speckled powder over him in ritual.

She had not glimpsed at him, let alone taken a look at him properly since she was a child. He was often in her nightmares, glaring at her in the same accusatory manner as the present. It was enough to make her skin crawl. She prayed he discovered that even he could miscalculate, that she did not have superpowers after all, and that she did not come from a line of Inhumans (whatever that meant, she had no idea). The power she supposedly possessed could resurrect the dead within a substantial amount of time and circumstance. If he was hopeful that she'd do that for him willingly, then he was more insane than she originally pegged him for. And she had plenty of time to mull it over while in captivity.

The monks applied black war paint to his face, before dressing him into his armor. He was in full detail just as she remembered, both terrifying and intense. A hand on her arm ushered her and they trailed after Ronan into another room where a man was shackled in place at the center of it. Coming from earth, she didn't recognize his species or where he came from.

"They call me terrorist, radical, zealot, because I obey the ancient laws of my people, the Kree, and punish those who do not, because I do not forgive your people for taking the life of my father and his father, and his father before him." The man shook, whether out of fear or pain she did not know. Her fingers were burning, prickling at the tips of them. It felt like a pulse was beating fast beneath them. "A thousand years of war between us will not be forgotten."

"You can't do this! Our government signed a peace treaty!"

"My government knows no shame." Ronan walked towards the monk holding the Universal Weapon and lifted it with ease. "You Xandarians and your culture are a disease."

"You…will never rule Xandar."

"No. I will cure it!" She watched on in sheer horror, as Ronan raised the hammer above his head and brought it down with a guttural sound of rage. The scream at the back of her throat came out hushed like a whisper. She was on her knees as the shock paralyzed her legs. Her hand reached out, as the other clenched onto her stomach. She felt nauseated and dizzy, but something kept her grounded, and it was pulling her towards the deceased.

Ronan handed the Universal Weapon over to be washed, his eyes darting towards the female on the floor, narrowing as her hand outstretched and a light poured through her fingertips. He flashed to her side within an instant and hauled her up by her arm. The glow against her skin dissipated and was replaced with pain, as his hold on her arm threatened to break the bone.

"You would dare use your power to give life to a Nova Corp soldier?" He pulled her closer when she did not answer him immediately. The force of his grip had her standing on her toes, staring into the menacing anger on his face, which equaled the dark and even tone of his voice when he spoke, "Should I break your hand? Feel it crumble into pieces…"

"No! Please…" She felt frightened, not knowing what she was capable of anymore. A white light had just magically appeared and then melted away by her doing. She didn't know much of anything and the fact that he knew more, than she did only made it worse.

"Please? It would please me to know that you won't be making anymore foolish errors." He drew his fingers from her arm to her hand, squeezing it until she gasped out in agony. It was a pleasant sound, he determined, one of which he wasn't at all averse to hearing. "You must learn, so that you can be judged."

The mere thought of her bringing anyone back to life without his consent was enough to throw him into the deep. Ronan knew he was outside himself, driven mad with politics and beliefs. He had to be careful with her, knowing very well that her existence could wage war among many, even his own people. And he was only interested in one battle at the present, if a battle is what you'd call it. Ronan would only find solace in the success of committing mass genocide on the Xandarian race.

"I don't know how it works, I…didn't… know I was using it," she answered truthfully after awhile, the pain subsiding the further she slipped away. A part of her wanted to add that she would not bring a man back to life just so he could die again and probably in a more gruesome manner in spite of her blunder.

She watched the purebred Kree for as long as she could muster, whilst making a feeble effort to resist the darkness taking over. This was the only way she could plead, since she could no longer speak, and soon she descended into the empty void of unconsciousness, succumbing to a dark sleep.

**TBC…M?**


	2. Granite Heart

**A/N**: Thank you very much for the kind feedback! It makes me so happy.  
**A/N/N**: I didn't have a chance to properly look this over or proof read it  
**A/N/N/N:** The idea to wed an Inhuman comes from the comics, in which Ronan actually did marry an Inhuman for political reasons (kinda), he actually liked Crystal. The reason why he'd like her to wear colors of royalty is because he doesn't approve of her. He wants to change her.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

02 – _Granite Heart_

_The days where I continued to run recklessly,  
I knew that if I looked back, then there would be nothing._

Her mind stirred long before her body caught up to it, as her eyes opened to question the unfamiliar surroundings. Then she remembered with a start and her heart seized in her chest with a panic. She made no plans to move her arm just yet and was in no rush to feel the pain that would undoubtedly follow. He could have broken her arm if he so desired and reasoned that she could simply use the other.

She brought her uninjured hand in front of her face and moved her fingers over invisible keys, tempting them to formulate sound. Of course, it would be impossible to play _Gaspard de la nuit_ without both hands. The point was that she no longer felt energy like she did before and it would be easier to dispel the silly notion from her mind – that she had superpowers.

The doors to her room opened and she relaxed upon seeing Gamora standing there. They had met briefly once or twice. There was a chance that the Zehoberei did not remember her well. It was easier for the girl to remember fondly of the assassin, since she was the first being to ever extend any real semblance of kindness towards her.

"I heard you were injured," was all she said, as she walked over to inspect the Inhuman with careful thoroughness. When the girl tried inching her right arm away, Gamora had more reason than none to grab it. The brief contact elicited an anticipated wince of imagined pain, "According to Ronan, you should have healed quickly. He sent me here to confirm it."

"That can't be true, all of what he claims to know," she whispered, this time allowing the green skinned assassin to take her right arm. She bent it inwards, before outwards. The results proved the Kree to be accurate once again when there was no evidence of pain.

"He also stated that you are free to leave your quarters, should you not try to run." There was a glint of mischievousness in her dark eyes then, "Not that he thinks you're capable of doing such a thing. I believe that his unfaltering doubt could be useful…Tell me, has he _defeated_ you yet? Are you _his_?"

Her lips parted to respond, but nothing came out. She hadn't at all been prepared for a question so bluntly stated, at least not one of the like.

Gamora placed a folded piece of paper inside the girl's right palm, "I'll go report my findings back to Ronan. Enjoy your reign of the ship."

She nodded quietly and waited a couple of minutes, before she opened her hand. She then unfolded the paper to see the footprints of the Dark Aster. At the right side of the ship's outline was a smudge that she couldn't seem to remove. Either Ronan was kind enough to provide her with a map or Gamora was heavily hinting towards a possible escape, should she successfully find her way to the accurate coordinates at the not so scheduled time. Both sounded farfetched, but at least that would explain Gamora's question.

What if it was just a test to see if she'd take the bait? Instead of the assassin standing there, what if she found Ronan alone in the dark halls, hammer in his hand ready to lock her away for good. He'd already discovered that he could inflict harm upon her without consequence. Now that was an unsettling thought – consequences. What would be the punishment for betraying Ronan, should she escape? At least he didn't seem to detest her, as much as he did the Xandarians.

With just a simple smudge, it was easy enough to feign innocence. She could always lie and say that she found the map while roaming if it wasn't hers to have, as ridiculous of a claim that would be. It should be easy enough, if she was permitted to look anywhere other than him, since his presence was imposing. He could probably see the truth right at the very core of a lie.

So, he was going to _allow_ her to roam the vessel on the account that she would not try to flee? Ronan must've already known that she wouldn't attempt it, since she knew nothing about the intricacies of escaping, and that was Gamora's point. On her planet, a world like this one was a fantasy, a thing of fiction. The same could be said for the scenario. The idea that she would both commandeer a space shuttle and safely find her way back to earth was absurd.

She'd acted accordingly thus far, docile and subservient, since there was nothing else to become. Today had been changed from the moment she left Hala and boarded this massive ship. The paper in her hand was not coincidental nor an act of good faith. A pair of steely amethysts shot through her subconscious and she stilled with trepidation and she hated herself for it.

Betraying Ronan should have been a thought all along.

* * *

Korath stood at a considerable distance, trying not to make it seem _so _deliberate. He had information that his master would not be too pleased to learn. He thought of ways of stating the facts to make it sound more reasonable, as if losing Ronan's sought after orb was the only option he'd been given, when instead Terrian scum slipped through his fingers and left him to his humiliation. If the Supreme Accuser didn't believe him, then he would be as good as dead. There was no room for penance with the Kree. Any wrongdoings shall be cleansed with death.

Nebula was opposite of Gamora, waiting patiently, yet overall amused by the situation. She'd known the moment the Pursuer returned empty handed that things had gone terribly awry. That could only mean the fields for her, a command she'd readily accept.

"Master, he is a thief, an outlaw who calls himself Star-Lord, but we have discovered that he has an agreement to retrieve the orb for an intermediary known as the Broker," Korath explained, while at the same time imploring for Ronan to understand. He wouldn't have returned without a lead to follow. Korath too was a soldier of the Kree Imperial.

Ronan lifted his head towards him, his deep voice resonating in the quiet room, "I promised Thanos that I would retrieve the orb for him, only then will he destroy Xandar for me." He raised himself up from his throne, hammer in hand, "Nebula, go to Xandar, and get me the orb."

She approached him with a knowing smile, "It will be my honor."

Gamora spoke out, sharp as ever, like a lashing to Nebula's ears, "It will be your doom." She then looked to Ronan, "This happens again, you'll be facing our father without his prize."

"I'm a daughter of Thanos, just like you."

"But I know Xandar," Gamora insisted, trying her damnedest to appeal to Ronan, which took little to no effort considering the trust she'd capitalized on for years. Even if she did know Xandar well, she wasn't anymore welcomed there, than any other place. Through carrying out the work of her adoptive father, Thanos, and Ronan, she'd lost credibility wherever she treaded. This mission would be the last, the end of her association with the both of them.

She would give the Collector the orb and be paid handsomely. She would buyout the galaxy and hide within it through mindless expense. She would disappear forever and wade into distance of her former self. Her first act of her new life would be to escape with the Inhuman. Ronan would find out sooner or later that he had been deceived, why not leave him vulnerable? Whatever he wanted that child for would never come to pass.

Nebula wanted the opportunity, as she pushed, "Ronan has already decreed that I-"

"Do not speak for me," he snapped, Thanos's daughter or not, he was in no mood for their back and forth. He stepped closer to Gamora and held her gaze as he neared, and for a moment she'd feared he'd seen right through her, "You will not fail."

"Have I ever?" She was confident and a bit pleased with herself when he went back to his throne, with his hammer across his lap.

Nebula retired alongside Korath, the two of them like tigers pacing in their cages.

Gamora's betrayal would soon gain her a handful of powerful enemies.

* * *

_'The map is not upside down and this is not a trap,' _the girl mentally insisted, as she walked through the seemingly empty halls of the ship. She'd seen plenty of Sakaarian soldiers on the way in and heard them stomping down the corridors in their heavy clunky armor, but she did not see them now. She was on the right side of the vessel, pausing every once in awhile to consult the details of the map.

She stopped upon a door, deeming it as the location that was blotched on the paper. Only how would one open it? The linings of the structure differed from the doors she'd passed through to get there. She walked closer to it, half expecting it to part on its own like the others, but it did not.

"How very anti-climatic," she breathed out, shakily. She'd been holding it in. Every turn around each corner, every new door that she entered made her feel more frightened. It was like being lost in a labyrinth, a maze that would eventually unveil something she did not wish to see. Perhaps another Xandarian with their brains splattered across the floor.

She was startled when the door suddenly opened on its own accord, Gamora arms crossed over at the spastic bouts of anxiety radiating from the Inhuman.

"I thought you were Ronan," the girl laughed with a hand to her chest, finally able to breathe comfortably again. The relief, however, was short-lived, when the assassin pointed over her shoulder for her to step inside.

She extended her hand out before the Inhuman could pass and spoke lowly, "The map…"

She placed it inside Gamora's palm and continued to walk further inside the dark room with slow, cautious steps. The sound of her heart was in her ears, passing by the creatures seeming to be piloting the ship.

Ronan sat upon his throne at the far back of the room, his eyes closed as he listened to the faint sounds of the girl's movements. His senses altogether were superhuman and enhanced by the armor he wore. He could even hear the wild thumping beneath her breast. He sighed quietly, as he inhaled the air around him and could smell the oils on her skin.

He looked at her then, watching her body grow still. She was dressed in the blue gown she first boarded with, when he distinctly gave the order for new attire to be arranged. He wanted her in the rich colors of mauve, to dress her up like royalty. Not for her sake, but for his own. He was utterly disgusted with the fact that he may indeed come to need her.

Not just for the wealth of immortality, but for political reasoning as well. He might have to wed her someday, despite the fact that the Kree law does not permit it. Purebred Kree can only lie with Kree women, not that he found her to be attractive or worthy of his interest.

He gestured towards the monks with two fingers, as his dead eyes continued to bore into hers, "Bring one of the dresses from her chamber."

They wordlessly obeyed, as another set of monks came over by where she was standing beneath the pale light in the room. Her skin was white against it, hair coming down in soft loose curls that stopped just below her hips.

Her chapped lips parted to speak, "You would have me dress here?"

"I did not give you permission to speak." The edge in his tone caused her to mouth to shut completely. The monks reached for the knots of her dress, beginning to untie the bindings of her bodice. She flinched, as her arms came up to stop them. Ronan's voice surrounded her with a chill, "If you continue to resist, then I will finish it for them."

Her skin flushed visibly at the threat and soon her arms lowered at her sides. He reveled in the silent relinquish of her control and his delight was not so well-kept, when the briefest of smirks tugged at the corners of his painted lips.

She closed her eyes against his gaze and shuddered audibly, unable to escape it. Her dress fell away and she felt the cold air hit her exposed flesh. It was humiliating and it took everything in her not to run away then. Instead she felt the burning sensation of his open scrutiny. She was without flaw, having not acquired any scars or bruising by his command – something he was particular about when he weighed her worth. He wanted her unharmed and in exchange, he found her to be pure and untouched by influence – ideal.

"Fear not, Inhuman, for I do not see you as desirable." He said, as he stood up and walked over with the monks who had returned with the dress. It was absolutely stunning, but something she didn't feel comfortable wearing. She didn't want anything from him out of principle, then again what choice did she have?

She raised her arms, allowing the dress to be fitted to her body. He was close then – too close, inches away from her, perhaps to study the subdued expression she wore more convincingly, than the gown. Anyone who witnessed her outside the Dark Aster would not question her status. They would think she was a noble, just as he intended.

Even if she, herself was undeserving of his respect, the power that resided inside the girl was strong enough to demand it. That, he did acknowledge, as well as considered the thought that perhaps he did not have to destroy her in order to rule her. Maybe he didn't have to break her after all.

**TBC.**


	3. Blackened Faith

**A/N**: First of all, thank you so much for your kind responses! I'm so happy that everyone is enjoying this! Please bear with this chapter. I will not be writing the prison escape at all, but this chapter had to happen. In the next chapter, Ronan and the girl will be together again. But first, I think it's important to know just how pissed off he is.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

03 – _Blackened Faith_

_The sky I looked up to someday is too far away_  
_and I even forgot how to fly._

The door parted when she neared it, the dress she wore trailing softly behind her with each careful step. Kree nobles must enjoy parading around in upscale fashion. Most women she'd seen wore leather tops and bottoms. That was strictly going by Gamora and Nebula, the assassin and the pirate. She thought the monks to be women as well, their attire being black robes. She was in fact, the only woman on board to be dressed proper.

Gamora was around the corner, having been waiting for the Inhuman to finish being called upon. They merely looked at one another and neither made an attempt to speak. The assassin could see the distress written clearly on her face. The sudden change in clothing was a statement from Ronan himself. He would have humiliated her by having her dress down in front of his very eyes.

The child didn't know it, but her silence spoke volumes. They were kindred spirits – alike in the ways that they were both stolen and powerless to oppose Ronan, but they wouldn't be for much longer.

"Walk with me and keep pace," Gamora said, as she unfolded the map. "I see that this didn't help you much."

She blinked, wondering if she'd gotten it all wrong, "You didn't put that mark there on purpose?"

"I did – that wasn't the problem. You had the map upside down. The opposite side of the ship is where they keep the Necrocrafts." The guards were routinely circling the perimeters, coming up on them, when Gamora roughly grabbed the girl's shoulders, as if she were being hauled away by force.

Gamora released her once they passed. The girl lowered her voice, "And what did you expect me to do once I'd found these 'Necrocraft' things?"

"Whatever one must do out of desperation…" She looked at the Inhuman, while the door parted for them, and watched as she marveled at the sight before her. The room was lined with space vehicles, some of them were moving about and others were being worked on. She found them fascinating, wanting to look inside, when Gamora took hold of her arm again.

"No one will question us if you act natural." It was easy for the assassin to say so, as she found the latch on the shuttle. "Thankfully it won't be too cramped. You go in first to the furthest seat."

The girl did as she was told and found herself on edge, terrified even. It wasn't from travelling into space with a killing machine. She felt a heavy sense of doubt weighing on her, like a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Crossing Ronan was the not so smart thing to be doing. A part of her tried to reason that it wasn't too late to get out and go back to her empty room.

It wasn't too late to continue not living life forever. Gamora sealed the pod and made sure the girl was buckled in securely. She looked at the Inhuman's wardrobe, unable to stop casting glares at it, "Ugh, that dress...it's going to attract unwanted attention. You know we'll have to disguise you as soon as we land."

"Would you disguise yourself as well?"

"No. I wouldn't have as much fun as you would," the assassin said with a smirk, knowing it to be the truth. The girl's wonder was child-like. This would be the most adventure she'd ever seen.

"Eh, that's probably true."

The Necrocraft took off with expert skill, Gamora being well-versed in the ways of the piloting and voyaging from one planet to another. The girl hadn't felt claustrophobic all things considered, finding herself getting used to small spaces.

"We're going to Xandar." The assassin felt the need to fill her in, although the less she knew about the plans, the better.

"He really hates them," she murmured in response, once again met with the unpleasant memory of Ronan swinging his hammer high above his head. The blood that rushed in the wake of the impact was like the flow of storm water into a gutter.

"He wants to get rid of them, every last Xandarian. They'll be wiped out, just like my own species. It's why I can't go back to Thanos." The memory was bitter to think back on. He'd made her feel like every other act of violence was alright, so long as it wasn't to that extent. How shameful was that thought…

The girl whispered, barely audibly, "I am so sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"It's still just as bad as it sounds. Time wouldn't matter. It's something that remains horrible, even as time passes. Even when we're gone, it'll still be a tragedy."

Gamora changed the topic, "You've proven to heal fast, what else can you do?"

"Ronan thinks I can resurrect the dead." She laughed at her own words, dismissing it with a shake of her head.

"Well, can you?" Gamora found herself intrigued by it, finally discovering why Ronan prized her the same way he would any treasure or possession.

"No. I mean, I haven't done anything like that before. I've never been in a situation that would call for it, until recently. Ronan stopped me before it could work, if it would have worked."

Gamora narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, "You're skeptical."

"I don't think I'm what he thinks I am. And I used to fear that he would find that out. I'd have nightmares about it, that he'd kill me. I still fear that." She'd wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding wildly with panic, just to find that she was alone in her room. It would take hours for her to fall back asleep, not at all grateful for the dark.

"He's not wrong about most things," Gamora said, feeling the words out on her tongue. It was difficult trying to make someone feel better about Ronan the Accuser. He was feared throughout the galaxy, having cut a bloody path through the Xandarian outposts. Not even the Kree government would dare lift a finger to oppose him. "You should look out the windows as we pass."

The closest the girl had ever come to the brilliance of space was the time she'd seen an aurora from the boating docks back in her hometown. The stars were out that night, in a sky free of clouds, and her mother grabbed her hand. Every time she envisioned her mother, it was like her face was scrubbed from memory, hardly a remnant. The details would always change; her hair, the clothing, the place, but never the electrical light in the sky.

But now her mind was clear and for once she could take in the scenery, and she was soon mesmerized by the clusters of light residing in the galaxy. She thought she had found beauty within the darkness of space, but Xandar had proved to be a treat within itself. It reminded her of Earth, although the populous consisted of various alien species, which intrigued her all the same.

Gamora approached her, "They're already staring at you. Let's get you out of that thing."

A change to the assassin meant disappearing completely as much as a makeover would allow it. Her dress was sold for a reasonable price, one that bought her the outfit she was currently wearing. It was black and fitted, yet comfortable. The hood above her head concealed most of her long hair since she kept it in a braid tied with dark leather, save for the flyaway strands that fell into her face.

Gamora watched as Peter Quill made his way to the Broker's shop. He was pleased to have the orb safely in his hand after his near death altercation back on Morag.

"I have to meet with someone right now. It'll be quick, but I need you to stay here." The term 'need' wasn't stressed enough. She couldn't afford to mess this up, Xandar and her new life depended on it. "By the time you finish eating, I'll be done, and we can go."

"Sounds good to me," she beamed back an unworried smile and took a seat upon one of the benches. Her stomach felt full within a couple of bites and the sparkling drink was a pleasant substitute to water. Gamora would return soon. She had learned over time not to wonder about certain things. That was how she pretended to be a welcomed guest, rather than a prisoner for all those years.

There was a commotion not too far ahead and she watched as Gamora took off running, until she was tripped onto the solid ground. Just as she undid the bindings, she kicked the thief straight to the center of his chest. The girl placed down her meal and ran towards them, watching the scene unfold into a rather heated one, as Gamora continued to land accurate kicks until she was on top of him. Her boot crushed his hand to the gun on his holster with the orb raised above her head to strike.

"This wasn't the plan," She heard Gamora say, right as she was tackled to the ground by a…raccoon? A giant tree walked on over, expanding its branches to wrap around the assassin.

"Put him in the bag, put him in the bag! No! Not her. Him. Learn genders, man."

Correction: A talking raccoon, who was giving orders to a tree.

"Biting? That's not fair!" The raccoon protested, when Gamora broke free from and threw him someplace far over her head.

"What can I do to help?" The girl asked, watching as the green skinned assassin picked up one of her balanced knives and threw it on point – knocking the orb from the thief's hand as he was running.

"Keep up," was the response returned, as Gamora's blade retracted and she took a big whack out of the tree, and jumped onto the main ground in pursuit of the item.

The tree was kind enough to lead the way, neither of them interested in enacting violence on one another. He'd even helped her down to the same level and was soon joined by the raccoon.

"Why are you being nice, ya big moron!" He said with a hint of annoyance, giving a shake of his head.

The tree shrugged and made a deep grumble and that was when she knew she'd seen everything. Civilians parted as they walked by, huddled in panic and worry with their families or loved ones. From the little time she'd spent there, it seemed like a peaceful place to live. And from Ronan's disgust, she'd expected something much different, but even now they made no move to fight. When they'd finally caught up, the tree threw a bag over the thief and hefted him up over its shoulder. Gamora emerged soaked with her sword out, moving past the raccoon and chopping at the tree until both arms dropped.

"Did you have to?" The girl asked, feeling guilty. The assassin didn't answer her, as she opened the bag and was shot with a plasma gun. She writhed in pain on the floor, until she was unconscious.

"Gamora!" The Inhuman was beside her then, gently holding her head in her hands so she was resting on her knees. It wasn't long after that the girl could hear sirens approaching and she made no attempt to run. The thief was also on the ground courtesy of the raccoon and for that, she was grateful. Whatever Gamora was trying to achieve could be continued.

A golden light poured down on them and she wondered what kind of new prison she'd be introduced to…

* * *

"And who is _this_?" Denarian Saal asked, as he stared at the girl who had come into custody along with the four that were apprehended. He had no real interest in how she'd ended up in Xandar, only that a question mark glowed beside her head in the projected details.

"Unknown. She doesn't have a record, but we believe her to be from Terra, just like the former, Peter Quill. She was originally spotted landing with Gamora, originally dressed in Kree garb." Corpsman Rhomann Dey lifted the gown up from the counter with the tip of his pen. "We had to buy from the merchant she disposed of the dress to just in order to search it, but we found no identification."

"Well, she has a record now," Saal muttered, dryly. "Send them to the Kyln."

* * *

"You have been betrayed, Ronan." It was a line that the Kree commander had rarely heard in his time. It was believed that he was too feared to ever betray. The thought of Gamora having the gull to do it so openly was too absurd for him to readily accept. The Other seemed adamant with his findings, rude to an extent that made the Accuser feel murderous. It was no different from the way his master treated the Kree thus far.

"We know only that she has been captured. Gamora may yet recover the orb." There was plenty that he could have added to that statement, but he left it short. He wouldn't make excuses or explain why he would oppose such a ludicrous statement, such as Gamora betraying him.

"No! Our sources within the Kyln say Gamora has her own plans for the orb. Your partnership with Thanos is at risk. Thanos requires your presence, now!"

Ronan glowered with his jaw set firmly, staring up at the projection. He couldn't look at Nebula then, not completely. It would only agitate him further. The sisters were separate, his mind reasoned. He'd always known they were different. Nebula was always eager to do whatever task was at hand, even if it called for slaughter, but there was a slight bout of hesitation he'd noticed in Gamora, one that he'd deemed to be strength instead of weakness.

She'd been far too brazen in her actions. How dare she ever even _think_ she could cross him…The next time he had the chance, he would make sure to show her true judgment, one only befitting that of a traitorous whore, his mind seethed. He started walking away, in need of the Universal Weapon before going to meet with the Mad Titan.

One of his Exolon monks entered the room with a bow of their head and waited for his permission before it spoke, "The Inhuman is not in her room. We have searched the ship and have concluded that she is gone."

He stopped in his tracks, dark eyes narrowed dangerously. The girl was missing, not on the ship – with Gamora. That hesitation he favored, that hint of compassion, he hated it now more than ever. He despised it wholly and thought about ripping it from her. An assassin with a conscience was useless. He would be doing Thanos a kindness by ridding of her. He imagined the girl then, how fragile she was, protected from all things, including himself.

He had no plans to expose her to any culture other than his own. Now she was in the Kyln, locked away in a prison. He couldn't head there without first meeting with Thanos, something he had little patience for at the moment.

Ronan approached Sanctuary, stepping onto dusted rock, like entering ruins without walls. Thanos remained with his back faced towards him, peering out into the quiet of space.

"With all due respect, Thanos, your daughter made this mess, and yet you summon me?" He didn't redirect the blame out of fear, but out of fact. Again, he had no time to discuss the obvious, and would prefer to be trailing after Gamora and his Inhuman.

The Other did the speaking, "I would lower my voice, Accuser!"

**Rude.**

"First, she lost a battle to some primitive," Ronan continued without caution, slowly pacing from one end to another. That thin line of patience was dwindling into nothing.

"Thanos had put Gamora under your charge!"

And he trained her, housed her, gave her opportunity, and showed her what lies within the shadows of the galaxy. His secrets were no longer a question whenever it pertained to Gamora. And she _dared_… they both dared. The girl's face flashed at the back of his subconscious, as daunting as the poisonous moonlight flowers that blossomed on Hala.

"Then she was apprehended by the Nova Corps."

The Other raised his voice, the counting accusations only further infuriating the Kree, "You are the one here with nothing to show for it!"

**_Inexplicably_ rude.**

"Your sources say she was meant to betray us the whole time!" Ronan argued, feeling something within him break. He wanted Thanos's answers. _Now_.

"Lower your tone! I may be your-" The Other's sentence died upon his lips, when Ronan aimed the Universal Weapon towards him and sent out a deadly wave that snapped the servant's neck. The sound of it was pleasing to his pointed ears. It was only a mere demonstration of what his wrath would inflict should anyone test him.

Nebula 's eyes widened considerably, between her father and Ronan. His approach was challenging and she admired that he didn't show any signs fear. It made the Kree plenty interesting, however it would not save him should Thanos make a move.

Ronan looked up to Thanos's levitated throne, "I only ask that you take this matter seriously."

"The only matter I do not take seriously, boy, is you." Thanos had turned in order to see the look of disdain upon the Kree's face. Belittling him was simple when his beliefs were apparent. "Your politics bore me. Your demeanor is that of a pouty child. And apparently, you have alienated my favorite daughter, Gamora. I will honor our agreement with the Kree, if you bring me the Orb. But if you return to me empty handed again, I will bathe the star ways in your blood."

"Thanks, dad. Sounds fair," Nebula said, as she stood up, the rewiring in her arm incomplete. She was quick in her actions. She didn't know what Ronan's next response would have been and frankly, she did not wish to find out. To be honest with herself, she didn't want the Kree commander dead. Being ruled by Ronan was a hell of a lot better, than being ruled by Thanos. "This is one fight you won't win. Let's head to the Kyln."

Ronan was reluctant to turn away, but he followed after her in silence. He set aside his honor and dignity, because there were things more important than his impending death. Nebula was correct in the fact that Thanos could not be taken down with his strength alone, but it still would have been satisfying to hammer the smile right off the Titan's hideous face.

**TBC.**


	4. Sanctioned Hope

**A/N**: I am so sorry for the late update! Work was grueling, as always. I actually cut off the chapter, deciding that it was too much, and would take far too long to perfect. I didn't want to make you guys wait too TOO too long. There were some great moments in this chapter that I hope you guys will take notice of! Thank you so much for the feedback, even the silent feedback. It is very important to do this for writers! Encouragement is on your end, darlings.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

04 – _Sanctioned Hope_

_The canary in my dream has forgotten how to sing. _

The arrival to Knowhere was the most relief the girl had felt in a long while, despite Gamora's negative outlook on their destination. They had all survived and escaped the Kyln, so how bad could it possibly be? Even if they hadn't felt the same way about it, the girl felt like they were all bonded in one way or another. For instance, the first and only night they were imprisoned, Gamora was taken to be killed.

The Inhuman found herself on the ground, useless when it came down to helping the assassin. At one point, she'd thought she would be killed.  
_  
'Is this another one of Ronan's?' A foul prisoner breathed, as he roughly hauled her up. Gamora hadn't responded, refusing to reveal any information about their situation or otherwise._

Peter Quill showed up along with Rocket, it seemed like one was more determined than the other to come to their rescue. And Drax made his entrance, all unsettling, and loathsome. He insisted that he was the one who deserved to kill Ronan's lackeys, since the Kree commander murdered his wife and child. Peter came up with a plan that silenced the larger man's worries for the time being.

Something about not killing Gamora, since Ronan would want to do that for himself and that lingering around the assassin undoubtedly entailed some sort of revenge in the end. All of the information running around in her mind threatened o explode. She was learning more new and not so exciting things about Ronan and she wondered if she'd see that cold, empty room once again.

The item that Gamora sought after was an orb she had been enlisted to obtain for Ronan, but instead she betrayed him. This was something the girl wished she'd known before heading out with her, although technically both cases were considered stealing, whether it was her or the orb. She did, in fact, wish to live differently. She wanted to return home someday, but she hadn't thought of intentionally angering the Accuser.

Even if it was by Gamora's doing, she had no doubt in her mind that she would stand accused beside her, should he capture them.  
_  
'I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I was trying to protect you,' Gamora had told her, as she crossed the room to stand in front of the Inhuman. 'Whatever it is that Ronan wants with this orb, it can't be good.' _  
_  
'I understand.'_

The city had shimmering, wet streets, and busy shops. It smelled like fuel and rubber, two strong odors that she couldn't get away from. At least with her new attire, she easily blended in it. The wealth of the mining colony didn't seem to reflect its establishments, when the poor were roaming and begging for units. The look of hunger on children's faces was enough to make her heart to swell and ache. She had nothing to give, only the disturbing acknowledgment that she'd lived better as Ronan's captive.

She came to a halt alongside Groot, watching as he extended his long branch-like arm to one of the children in passing. The little girl looked up at him wearily. It was like magic unfolded, when a flower blossomed at the center of his palm and he plucked it out gently for her. It wasn't currency, but the soft smile on her face was of true happiness. There was cause to believe that flowers didn't grow inside a celestial being's head.

"Your buyer's in there?" Rocket asked, somewhat skeptical as he took in their surroundings. He'd seen plenty of low grade establishments. It was either idiocy or genius to not live in riches and the buyer was obviously well beyond rich, but was choosing to do business out of a dumpster.

Gamora looked over her shoulder at him, "We are to wait here for his representative."

They watched as a guy was randomly thrown face first onto the muddy ground. Drax was the second one thrown by the outside appearance, "This is no respectable establishment. What do you expect us to do while we wait?"

Surprisingly, once they were inside, there was plenty to do. It was just nothing that the girl would typically be interested in. She couldn't watch bets being placed on slaughter, even if the galactic reptiles did look like something that should be put down. Soon Gamora left in search of a quiet place, as Peter went to buy fuel for the Milano. She then received an offer that she was willing to accept and there was no one to tell her otherwise, as she sipped the drinks that Rocket handed to her.

It was bitter and strong, burning all the way through her nose. It didn't take long for everything to feel incredibly light, as though she were walking on air. The gentle nudge of Groot's branches kept her from tipping off balance occasionally. The warmth in her cheeks was oddly comfortable, as her body temperature increased. The once annoying swarm of bodies was now a welcomed, easy sight to endure.

That was right about the time all hell broke loose, resulting in the overdue argument between the crass raccoon and Drax, the all too serious Destroyer. Groot was on the ground, taking most of the hits when Peter and Gamora joined in to break them apart.

Rocket lowered his gun, that being the more imperative success that they should all be proud of.

"We have traveled halfway across the quadrant and Ronan is no closer to being dead," Drax ground out, his voice rough with anger, as he turned to leave. No one made a move to stop him. It was best if he got some air and calmed down.  
_  
Ronan was no closer to being_ **dead**.

That was something she wasn't quite used to hearing yet. They all wanted Ronan stopped or dead to some degree – Drax the most. And if it were true about his family, she could easily see why. The word 'if', immediately she implied room for doubt. She should feel the same way as they do. She was stolen from her family and then was left on Hala with little food and no light. The only happiness she felt was within the parchment paper and utensils she'd been given.

The monks would allow her to walk around the large, empty home, but never outside. Ronan himself had never arrived to either forsake or mistreat her. She'd told herself that it was her fault, even if she was a child at the time. She was the one who had run right to him without much thought. And for awhile, for whatever reason, she didn't want to go back home. Maybe if he'd shown her more of the galaxy or even of himself, she wouldn't want to leave now.

Maybe if he wasn't evil or a fanatic, they wouldn't want to kill him.  
_  
'You couldn't just be good'_, she thought bitterly to herself, '_Instead you're what I feared you to be'._

The doors gave a sigh, much like the doors on the Dark Aster. A pink skinned woman stepped forth, "My lady Gamora, I've come to fetch you for my master."

The Collector had been known for the various items in which he deemed to be valuable or rare. The girl had just about giggled herself into a fit of hysterics when she saw a dog in an astronaut outfit as one of those aforementioned valuables. In fact, there were many living things concealed behind glass. Her mood changed as fast as a switch when it made her feel sad suddenly. She wanted to free them in her drunken stupor.

She laughed again with a hint of a sob. _Hiccupped_. It really was sad.

"What is with her?" Tivan drawled, as he pointed at the girl in a lazy manner. His movements, facial expressions, and even spoken sentences seemed to lag behind him.

"She's happily intoxicated, which looks a lot better on her if you ask me," Peter Quill said, intervening with a great sense of charm. "She probably needs more of that, whatever that is. In fact, I think we all do. A bottle of cheap tequila and Unchained Melody…C'mon dude, you know what I'm talking about."

Carina looked to her master then, silently hoping that he wouldn't express any interest in them. She honestly couldn't stand it anymore. Tivan stared blankly at the two humans in front him. They were utterly boring. He couldn't see the quality in Peter Quill or the unknown beauty standing beside him. Now _the tree_ was something to behold.

"What is…that…thing there?" He asked, as he peered up at Groot from Gamora, dismissing the pleasantries as per her request.

On cue, the tree responded, "I am Groot."

The Collector stepped forth, already fantasizing the creature behind glass, forever to be cherished, "I never thought I'd meet a Groot. So, you must allow me to pay you now, so I may own your carcass at the moment of your death, of course."

"I am Groot." That time his response seemed more agreeable, than anything else, and it concerned everyone.

Rocket retorted all sarcasm and booze, "Why? So we can turn you into a freakin' chair?"

Tivan was amused then, "That's your pet?"

"What!" Rocket reached behind for his gun. That was the second time they should have felt proud of themselves, having accomplished something such as Rocket tucking his deadly gun away.

Gamora stepped in front of the white haired man, "Tivan! We have been halfway around the galaxy retrieving this orb."

"Very well, then. Let us see what you've brought."

Peter reached his hand out with the item of question, when it dropped almost comically. He quickly caught it in his palm and handed it over with his best serious expression.

Tivan placed the orb between metal claws to be untwisted. Beneath the intricate casing was a small stone with a strong purple light glowing from it.

"Oh, my new friends…Before creation itself, there were six singularities. Then the universe exploded into existence and the remnants of these systems were forged into concentrated ingots. Infinity stones." The cool, unwavering tone Tivan was using to describe the deadly, near abomination-like orb was terrifying. Oval hologram screens formed, as he continued to explain, "These stones, it seems, can only be brandished by beings of extraordinary strength. Observe."

The girl sobered effectively, as she turned towards one of the large holograms and couldn't pull her eyes away from it. She swallowed thickly and fought the urge to cry again. She thought of Xandar then, falling away to a calamity.

"These carriers can use this stone to mow down entire civilizations like wheat in a field," Tivan finished and didn't appear to be burdened by owning such an item. Surely, he knew that he would be in danger wherever he roamed with it, especially when so many desired its power, whether they could control it or not.

The harsh glare of the stone soon disappeared from the girl's eyes, as the holograms faded until they were gone. They continued to discuss units without her, while her fingers started tingling. No, not just tingle – itched and burned like fire flowed beneath them. The wild heartbeat followed soon after, just like the time the Xandarian had died right in front of her, so would someone else.

She rubbed her fingers together in an attempt to sooth them and gave a hopeless sigh. It was useless. Perhaps she could prevent it before it happened. But _who _would it be? Her eyes darted from Gamora to Tivan, Peter Quill to the small raccoon insisting upon doing business fairly. Groot was standing, well, like a tree, overlooking the area with no particular cause.

Then she saw it, captured in time like the awful moment before an accident. It was Tivan's beautiful assistant with her too pink skin and soft dark hair. Her steps were purposeful, as she moved closer to the stone. She mustn't touch it, as per the history lesson they had all received. Her body wouldn't be able to contain its power and her gorgeous skin would peel off like chipped paint.

"Carina, stand back!" Tivan warned with his voice low and commanding, master to servant. Her body stiffened for only a second, perhaps out of habit, but she continued.

The shadows of purple light were drawn ominously on her face, "I will no longer be your slave!"

He circled his desk in an attempt to stop her, but it was too late, "No!"

Carina's hand closed over the stone and she screamed high in agony as it ate through her skin and consumed her down to her bones, until even they too had shattered. The blast in the wake of her death required everyone to take cover, except for the Inhuman who stood at the center of it all. Her hand touched to the purple flames tearing at the pale light pouring from her outstretched palm.

She didn't know what had compelled her. It was a thought only received after the action had occurred. The power grabbed hold of her, as firmly as an actual grip. The explosion maneuvered and died out around her body after it had destroyed the various glass cages in the room. Alas, there was the small flutter of a heartbeat. It was faintly there – quiet of all things, a white noise.

The reconstruction of that all too pink skin and that soft brunette hair, like a butterfly uncoiling its dried dead wings, or a flower blossoming beneath its first sunrise. Revival.

She took Carina's hands into her own, as they returned to shape. They watched one another through the sheer, spiraling miasma of white heatless flame. And once the smoke subsided, the girl found herself releasing Carina, so that the servant could escape with her new life and an old regret.

She looked at her hands and felt a terrible chill coursing throughout her entire body. She pieced a woman back together again. She couldn't even stop herself from doing it. There was no control in her actions. Aside from that, she stood at the middle of an explosion and walked away from it unscathed.

Gamora stepped out from behind the rubble alongside Peter Quill. They had both witnessed the end of what appeared to be an act of resurrection. The assassin whispered the girl's name, her breath still caught in her throat. Peter was mystified in silence, not something so easily done.

"_What_ are you?" He finally asked, finding his voice again. She didn't know how to respond, still shocked by the events, when Gamora grabbed her by the arm.

"We'll discuss it later. We have to go. _Now_." The assassin closed the orb casing around the stone and proceeded to leave through the broken entrance. "Why could I think Tivan could contain whatever was within the orb."

Gamora came forward, as the girl fell to her knees. Dizziness plagued her and it only could have been from the energy she'd used. She wouldn't pretend to know anything about her powers or how they worked. She claimed that she was fine, but in truth, it was just the opposite.

Rocket's eyes widened at the orb. She was glad to see him alive and in one piece. The three of them went back to discussing the pertinent details and fate of the orb. It absolutely could not be handed over to Ronan, even she knew that. Rocket's idea was out. Peter Quill wanted to trade it in for money still, whereas Gamora wanted to give the orb to Nova. It would be safer that way and they would be able to contain it peacefully.

The sound of Drax's voice pulled them from their conversation, as he cheered with blades in both of his hands. He was prepared for battle with a long overdue celebration. Familiar ships were coming in close, Necrocrafts moments away from landing. Ronan had found them.

The assassin was at the girl's side within seconds, "Come on. We need to get to the Milano."

"No." Not after what had just transpired. She had questions to ask and the Kree commander was the one withholding. "I have to stay. There are things he may know about my past. Maybe I could even help in some way? I could try and persuade him from-"

"There is no way that's going to happen and I am not leaving you here. I swore to myself that I wouldn't." The new start Gamora wanted involved the safety of the Inhuman. The girl was fragile and kindhearted. She wouldn't survive Ronan and Ronan shouldn't be allowed to survive death.

"That doesn't sound like a bad idea," Peter added, his fingers fidgeting restlessly. They had to leave. "After what we just witnessed, I think she can handle herself."

"I need these answers." She looked Gamora in the eye, holding her there. "I'll be fine. He won't hurt me. You know that. He needs me alive."

Gamora grit her teeth and shouted in exasperation. She hated everything about this and would have gladly continued to argue if she hadn't been lacking in the luxury of time. With the orb in her possession, she ran towards the space pods. Peter and Rocket decided to assist her in getting safely to the Milano with Groot following behind them.

That left Drax and the Inhuman to their fate, as Ronan stepped off the Necrocraft, exuding a considerable amount of intimidation. The commander appeared cross and his shoulders seemed to be a bit broader, than the last time she saw him. His skin was paler, the black paint somehow darker. Perhaps she was taking him in with the fear of death, since despite what she told Gamora, she really had no idea what Ronan was capable of. His steps were deliberately calculative and presaging.

"Ronan the Accuser!" Drax shouted to him, his massive body trembling with rage. Finally, he would have what he always wanted, the opportunity to avenge his family.

"You are the one who transmitted the message?" Ronan asked, unimpressed. A lot of his time had been wasted lately. Wasted time was just as intolerable as rudeness in his mind. He wouldn't stand for it. At least, not while there was another viable option.

"You killed my wife. You killed my daughter." The handles of Drax's daggers shook, his anger only building. He'd dreamt of this moment over and over again. He'd recited it in his head, what he'd say, and how he would slay the monster who murdered his family.

Ronan narrowed his eyes at the bold accusation, since he easily recalled the man standing in front of him. He knew the exact details that caused the deaths of his wife and child. The fact that he was pointing his finger at the wrong killer was amusing enough, when it was in fact Thanos who had killed his family. He wouldn't divulge the truth, preferring to have the man give it his all if he was to go straight to his death anyway.

The commander turned his back on Drax with a curl of his lips and began walking towards the shuttle he had arrived on. He could feel the shift in the air and effectively dodged the attack. He spoke casually, "Nebula, retrieve the orb."

One direct hit from Ronan caused Drax to go backwards into the air. The girl could tell the outcome of the battle and winced, having to look away. She couldn't allow Drax to die.

The girl gathered herself to her feet with shaking legs. The energy was surging throughout her body again, flooding her senses, and seizing her like a vice. The hood of her jacket lowered from the top of her head, as strong gusts of wind picked up. Ronan could sense the power, before he allowed it to touch him. He knew that it was her. He felt the warm flares of white cutting into his skin in sharp bites of wind and he found her at the source.

He roamed his eyes over her new attire with profound disapproval and wondered if he could keep himself from cursing her with his criticisms long enough to bring her back to the Dark Aster. Once there she would be reprimanded accordingly.

It was perplexing for him to see the Inhuman in motion, like moving art. The air around her was sweetly perfumed with life and other wonderful things enticing him to the point where he was finding it increasingly difficult to control himself. If he didn't move to stop her now, the small wisps of pain that he felt against his skin wouldn't be so slight, and Drax would probably make an attempt to finish him while he was properly distracted.

Without the Universal Weapon in hand, he couldn't teleport to her, but he was still fast – faster than she could ever anticipate. He too was superhuman and has been envied for his speed and strength. He pinned her to the nearest wall with ease, closing his hand around her delicate throat. The glowing light from her ability softly faded from her eyes and she sunk against him.

"I can't control it…" She murmured to him, continuing to gaze up at his harsh features. "I don't want to hurt you or anyone for that matter."

He tilted his head at the confession, wondering if she genuinely hadn't meant to harm him. A part of him wanted to entertain the idea, when Drax charged.

"Let her go!"

Ronan slowly pulled her away from the wall and lowered her to the ground without removing his grip. He then swatted the other man as though he were a mere fly. Drax was propelled into one of the buildings behind him, lost in the smoke of dirt, and his collision. She trailed her fingers over the top of Ronan's hand, moving towards his wrist for a better hold on him. The pressure around her neck grew tighter the more she dared to make a move.

"After I kill him, I will deal with you," He promised with a hint of scorn in his tone. He had a way of making even the deadliest of promises sound gentle or kind when he said it so softly.

Every move Drax made was deflected, resulting in the unnecessary demolition of the city's shops. Finally having had enough, the Kree commander grabbed him by his throat, and bored his cold dead eyes into Drax's own. He fought for his life, punching into the side of Ronan's dark armor. She heard the break in it and within seconds Drax was on the ground in front of her.

"I don't recall killing your family," Ronan spoke lowly to him, as he stood up. The cold look in his dark eyes caused her stomach to twist in knots, when he glared at Drax. The line that followed soon after was like being struck with ice water. "I doubt I'll remember killing you either."

"Please…" Her hands inched further up the Kree's arm, as she pleaded desperately. "Don't kill him." A part of her wanted Ronan to be redeemed, although most of her was filled with fear for the safety of Drax's life. There was too big a chance that Ronan was not someone who could be saved anyway. It was true that he might've been the monster that everyone so strongly claimed him to be. But he might be something else.

Ronan stared down into her eyes, capturing her gaze, if only to understand her actions. She wasn't meant to witness his sins. That was why he'd kept her locked away. She'd already gotten a taste of his violence. She was subjected to it at the present, with her small neck beneath his grip. He could snap it effortlessly. Surely her powers were noticed and others would wish to have her as their own. He could end it for her now and rid himself of the headache, _both_ of these headaches.

Drax grunted in pain, as he raised himself up with his arms. One swift kick to his face knocked him out into a dark sleep. Behind his eyelids danced his wife, long cornsilk colored hair, and cerulean eyes. Then his daughter, swirling around and round, as they disappeared in and out of time. He feared that they would disappear forever.

The commander took hold of one of Drax's legs and proceeded to slowly drag him across the wet, shimmering ground. He tossed the man without a hint of care into a pool of yellow liquid. She'd been forced to watch, as he brought her up to her feet, and pressed her back flush against his chest. He held her still with his hand at the front of her throat. She could feel the utter calm of his steady heartbeat against her skin and shuddered breathlessly, as sobs poured from her lips.

She was crying, watching as the bubbles on the surface became fewer and fewer. The pulse in her fingertips served as an indicator and just as she went to hold out her hand, Ronan roughly spun her so that their faces were only inches apart. He could smell the salt on her skin and if he leaned in any closer, he would be able to taste the tears on her swollen lips. He held her wrists captive and pinned them to his body. She shivered, as his thumb ran along the side of her neck, contemplative almost.

"Do not test me…" He stared down into her eyes, as if peering directly into her soul. "If you think one life gone is a tragedy, then you are in for a rude awakening. Judgment will fall on Xandar and they will pay for it in blood."

Nebula's voice came through, "Ronan. It is done."

He smirked crudely at the girl, "Perhaps sooner than expected."

**TBC.**


	5. Promised Skies

**A/N: ** GUYS. I am sorry AGAIN for the late update. Snow storms knocked out my internet, however, I was still able to write this chapter out for you, and waited eagerly for this day! I do hope you enjoy. Thank you again to all the new followers and comments! You'll never know how much I enjoy all of your feedback. It makes me confident and appreciated.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

05 – _Promised Skies_

_It's okay if I don't see my dreams anymore._

"Do not allow her out of your sight," Ronan practically growled, as he roughly shoved her into two of his guards. The rest of what he said was in Kree and not knowing what it meant only intensified the anxiety she already felt in the pit of her stomach. She'd been taken to the Necrocraft he arrived on, but he did not follow them. She stared outside the window towards where Drax would have drowned to death and her eyes widened. Groot was pulling him out and at the last second, saved his life.

If only Ronan had been present, she would have dared to stick her tongue out at him. She would have pushed all of the wrong buttons and ended up dead.

The Dark Aster was an oddly comforting sight to behold. At least she knew what to expect and what not to expect, like Gamora devising the perfect plan to escape. She was handed over to the monks and was taken away to a warm bath. It wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to her. In fact, all of her baths were supervised, even on Hala. He assumed that she would be a flight-risk.

At least she was able to wash herself, the strong scent of vanilla hitting her lungs. It wasn't an overly typical scent. It wasn't the sickeningly sweet kind of vanilla. She rather enjoyed it actually. It was soothing, in an otherwise tense situation. The clothes she had been wearing had disappeared at some point and were very possibly destroyed.

The black gown that was prepared for her had been evidence enough. Why was it black? Did he assume that her previous outfit declared her preference or was this just_ his_ preference? She didn't want to linger on the thought for too long, as she allowed the monks to dress her according to his standards. This was the expectations of his noble influenced mind. And she'd have to succumb to it.

It felt too tight in the chest area and the dress was easy enough to trip on. She didn't feel like a princess, even after they'd pinned up her hair and painted her face in the same disturbing color black. It was only her lips and a line that followed her top lashes. Now she'd felt like she had become exactly what he wanted – just worse, much worse.

If she had been given the choice to have dinner, she would have politely refused and resigned for the evening. Unfortunately, no one here served her needs. Especially him. Despite her surprise that the Dark Aster had a kitchen, her face remained empty as she was forced to sit across him. The lighting in the room was pale and the air felt cold against her skin.

He hadn't removed his dark and obvious gaze from her since the moment she took a seat at the table. The galaxy hadn't changed her as much as he'd imagined. In truth, he felt as though his worry had been wasted. There wasn't a great deal that he would become concerned over, especially over a girl. Perhaps woman would have been more appropriate, as he skimmed over the exposed skin of her smooth neck and defined collarbone.

"Your actions were unexpectedly petulant," He said, as he leaned forward, dark eyes casted on her in an unsettling manner. "You will soon learn that with every betrayal, that I will become less forgiving."

"Do you often feed your lambs before you slaughter them?" She looked at the meal set down before her and ignored the low grumbling in her stomach.

"My generosity has its limits, Inhuman." The slightest hint of a smirk touched his lips and it had disarmed her effectively. She had questions. Many of them, but they were momentarily lost in the threat of his words.  
_  
Oh, there they are…_

"Did you murder Drax's family?"

"He wasn't always known as Drax and no, I did not murder his family, but I have murdered families before, and I suspect that I'll be doing it again soon enough."

He noticed how her skin paled at his words, wondering if she understood the gravity of the situation. There was nothing good about him. She would have been better off aiming her pretty little light at him and not bothering to stop.

"I've taken hundreds of innocent lives. They have merged into one single blur, women, children, and men alike. I don't hold any grievances. There is no such thing as repentance for me or my kind. " He was satisfied with the gasp that left her lips involuntarily. She was beautiful, no matter what expression she was making, even with the stilled traces of horror and compassion. "In fact, your escape left a trail to the Kyln, in which I ordered every inmate to be killed. Have that weigh on your conscience."

She knew then that she was staring back into the eyes of the Devil himself. "You're pretentious. No – you're a coward, who instills fear in others just to gain respect."

"Fear is in the act of dominance, as well as authority, and dominance is how you earn respect. Think back to your days on Hala, did you not fear and respect me all at once?"

A chill passed through her at the truth in his words, but her mind would have argued at his logic. It was too cruel of a concept for her to swallow. "That was before I  
knew that you were this monster and believe me, I'm starting to feel less for you now."

"Shall you come to hate me, then? Do you even know what hate_ feels _like?" His eyes burned into hers, remembering the white magic she had used against him. He could still feel traces of its soft electricity flowing through his veins. It served as a charge, something he was sure would mortify her. "Would we be enemies on a battlefield?"

"I know that you want to use the Infinity Stone to get rid of Xandar, but you cannot. I know that I can't stop you, not physically, not with my powers."

"It's an Infinity Stone?" He was pleasantly intrigued then._ Truly._

She immediately closed her mouth and then it dawned on her – Ronan had no idea what the orb was, he was only sent to obtain it for his cause. The orb itself was at the center of the table, kept still in a pair of metal claws. She looked at it mournfully and thought, _'What have I done?'_

"You do not remember it, but you died twenty-five years ago. Before that time, it was thirty years and thirty years before that time, all in an endless cycle. One you will never hope to escape from. Once you have reached thirty, you will die again. Your thirtieth birthdays are like that of death sentences." He wondered if rewarding her with pieces of her origin was appropriate considering he had meant to punish her. It was no secret that she'd given him a gift by exposing the orb's true contents.

She shook her at him in disbelief, "That's not true."

"That was how I found you," He said, staring at her seriously. "Your death omits a light, almost like a beacon straight through the galaxy."

"No."

"I followed that light one hundred and fifty years ago, arriving to Terra, and traced it back to you, a mere human girl, dying beneath the light. I had assumed that I miscalculated, until you came to life again, right before my own eyes. Your beacon had brought me a diamond." He leaned forward steadily, the cold tone of his voice causing her to shiver. "And now I have an Infinity Stone."

"One hundred and fifty years means that you waited to confirm the pattern long before you took me," she breathed, feeling incredibly, what was the word he used so often? **Inhuman.**

"I wanted to be sure of what you were and you did not disappoint me."

"Well, you suck and very much disappoint me. You've done nothing, but turned my world upside down! You have only brought me grief and pain." She rubbed at her tired face, trying to hold herself together. She didn't want to cry in front of him again. "I have five years to live."

"Yes. You will die soon. And your memories will be renewed along with it. You won't remember being you, for you will simply become."

"I won't become anything. You will keep me locked away forever."

"You will be whatever I need you to be," The fire in his eyes hadn't left, but only intensified the longer he stared into her. "It does not have to be unpleasant."

"Since you are naturally unpleasant, I find that difficult to believe," she stood up from her chair. "Can I leave now?"

"In your next life, perhaps, you will see me differently." They stared at each for what felt like forever, her defiance against his resolution. He then looked to his guards and they took her away. He already felt oddly neglected of her presence. The bitter memory came to him, the one in which he found her for the first time.

He had no compassion for weaker beings, especially Terrian kind. The rain was scalding in his descent, punishing, as the dark clouds moved like a veil to keep the sky from falling. The light was not noticeable once he was on land, but the coordinates were not mistaken. He followed them in earnest, not sure of what he'd find, until he saw her there at the center of it.

She'd collapsed on the wet ground. Her long wet hair clung to her face, skin harshly pale in contrast to all other things that surrounded her. He stepped closer, unhurried since he knew that she was dead, granting him all the time in the world to be careful. A part of him felt anger at first, realizing that he had accomplished nothing.

There was nothing of interest to be found. He'd lowered himself to a scavenger on whim and his false instinctual justifications. How his father would have disapproved, as his high and noble son kneeled in the mud to hover over a dead girl.

He raised himself to stand, about to turn away, when a light drew itself on the ground, casting away the shadows. When he looked over at her again, a growing smirk appeared on his face. It was the first time he'd ever seen something that was _so _beautiful, and _so _powerful.

Ronan closed his eyes with his head resting against his folded hands. Five cycles he'd watched her die and come to life again. It was an adjustment, to see her alive now.

He didn't bother to weigh the consequences of telling her about her cursed life. In his mind, she should have been grateful.

* * *

_Thirty years is not long enough to live. _It was a thought that stuck in her mind like a mantra, repeated over and over again. She'd spent so much of her time in Hala, enclosed and alone. There were things she wanted to do and accomplish. She'd never weighed her desires as much as she did then. She'd figured she had her whole life ahead of her. How wrong she had been to assume such things.

Why couldn't she resent him for the truth? She wasn't grateful, but she didn't hate him, even when she considered that his reveal was a punishment in itself. She stopped pacing the floor and sat down on her large bed with a sigh. The sigh grew into a sob and soon she was crying. She lamented over her short life and when she was cried out, she fell into a cold sleep. Even while unconscious, she made no move to pull the covers over her trembling shoulders.

She didn't hope for warmth and she prayed for nothing, for she learned a long time ago that wishing bred expectation, and her expectations were always broken, and never met.

Hours had passed when the door to her chambers opened and a tall shadow loomed over her as she slept. It wasn't a peaceful, selfish sleep. The girl's body shook fiercely, wracked with old sobs, and new fears. What brought him to her room was beyond him. He had dismissed the thought with the excuse that he did not need reason.

He trailed the sheets from the opposite side of the bed to the other, pulling the fabric over with his long fingers, and covered her body with them. Her lips parted as she breathed out steadily, the rise and fall of her chest was calmer. She slept in her gown, when she did not have to. He frowned at the thought of the discomfort, not that he'd ever slept in such things before. Sleeping in the nude would have perhaps been a better choice. It was what he preferred anyway.

He skimmed her cheek with the slightest of touches, her skin smooth and warm. The rest of her body probably felt the same, except smoother and warmer in other places. He blinked, stunned by his own brash thoughts. It was only factual observations, he reasoned.

There was no romance in his actions. He hardly acknowledged it as care. She was someone who he would have to use eventually, and for various things. After he's demolished Xandar, she would never trust him in any sense of the word, if she hadn't felt that way already.

* * *

There was no clock to indicate the time and she hadn't needed to know of those specifics in a long while. The darkness of space made all hours of day feel like night time. She was interrupted and also disturbed from her thoughts, any thoughts really. Not while Ronan had the orb. He knew what it was and he obviously knew what it could do, and he would use it on Xandar.

She wasn't intelligent enough to rationalize that it was not all her fault. Something awful could have happened to Gamora. She could have been killed for the orb.

Losing and exposing the orb was a group effort, but she blamed herself.

She had to do something. Her mind was frantic for the answer, when a solution presented itself at the front of her subconscious. She'd kept it buried in the back, doubting that she could ever do it. She could never kill anyone, let alone Ronan.

He was stronger and faster, ancient, and experienced. He was infuriating and knowing. How would she even get close enough to afflict pain or death upon him?

The door opened for her as she passed through them. The sighing and releasing of the metal was no longer frightening to the girl. Even the long, dark halls couldn't dissuade her from what had now turned into a mission.

She was met with empty corridors. No guards and no monks. Another door parted, one she hadn't seen before. It was like it came into existence once she walked by it. Things weren't adding up. She should have been awaiting punishment in her room. That room should have been heavily guarded. The door should have been locked. Surely Ronan would have scolded her for her behavior on Knowhere and her ill-mannered talk at the dinner table.

The first room she entered was incredibly bright, but the light served to only illuminate the table beneath it. On top of it was a blade, small, and delicate. Why had it been there, so out of place? Perhaps this would be easier than she originally imagined.

The next room beyond it was dimly lit and the tiles were cold against her bare feet, as she patted further into the darkness. Against the wall was a rather large bed that was canopied in black netted material. She could scarcely make out the figure behind it, a part of her knowing who it would be. The Kree commander was asleep and the moment was charmingly opportunistic.  
_  
'Now or never,'_ her mind encouraged her, temptingly, and not at all unreasonable, _'Take whatever it is that you want…" _

The safety of Xandar. It would depend on her. She made a promise that she would make an attempt to try and stop him. She approached the curtain and carefully slid it aside to reveal the Kree noble, oblivious and completely off-guard.

He was naked beneath the sheets, the black coverlet stopping just below his hips. It was just enough to reveal his toned, well-conditioned chest and arms. He was muscular, but not to the point where it would have been overbearing. In fact, if he wasn't so hyped about genocide, perhaps some form of appreciation would have been established for her.

Then her eyes trailed lower still, the defined 'V' shape of his lower region was partly covered by the sheets. His blue skin in contrast to everything else was a distraction. It was wrong to pause at the mere sight of him. He would kill her the moment he opened his eyes. It was too late to go back, having wandered too far into the dragon's lair.

She raised the dagger with trepidation, unable to steady her hand properly. The tip of the cool metal pressed into the smooth skin of his neck. All she had to do was apply pressure and victory would be had, until she was killed of course. She would just come back to life again, so what did it matter, really? She would soon forget her horrible deeds in the next life.

"I'm sorry…" She closed her eyes tightly and was stopped abrupt in her actions, when a hand forcefully grabbed her by her wrist. Ronan kept the knife at his throat, as he studied the girl with a narrowed and cold expression.

"Bold, even for you," he said, dangerously low to her. He twisted his other hand in her black dress and yanked her closer to him. The light in his violet eyes darkened the longer he stared at her for. She was deliciously frightened, shaken and also regretful. "Pretentious and a coward. Is that not what you said to me earlier? How would you explain your actions to me now?"

He didn't give her the chance to respond, as his hand went from the front of her dress to her waist, digging his short nails into her skin through the fabric. It wasn't enough. He pulled her closer still, so close that she was straddling his hips. Her skin flushed noticeably and she found it difficult to meet his gaze, afraid of what she'd find waiting for her.

She remained completely frozen, even as he leaned up to challenge her. "Go on,_ Inhuman_. Kill me."

Ronan slid his hand from her wrist and stared into her, waiting for her to make a move. Without the paint and the armor, with his mocking surrender that she couldn't understand or interpret, it caused her to hesitate.

"If you do not kill me, the consequences will be severe," he breathed closely to her lips, pressing his skin further into the sharp blade, eliciting a groan when it cut into him. She would do nothing, her bravado had been for nothing, and he knew it. Maybe she could still run away to her room? He'd still ridicule her and punish her, no matter where she was.

Ronan brought his hand up to her chin, tilting her face so that she could look into his eyes. "Time's up." The heat of his mouth was unexpected, as he kissed her bruisingly. The stroke of his fingers across her cheek made her more pliable, more open to his warmth, when his tongue filled her mouth.

The dagger fell from her loosening grip beside him. She leaned further into the kiss, angling her face, and slowing her jaw in rhythm. He shifted so that the many layers of her gown were not in the way, the contact of her hips pressing into his own was crucial. Beneath the fabric, he felt the flimsy barricade of her panties and he tore it roughly at the hip.

He allowed her a moment to breathe, as he lifted the blade that had fallen, and teased it over the bindings at the front of her dress. He could see her pulse flutter at the side of her neck, as he cut through them with ease. He threw the weapon across the floor, as he resumed in his ministrations, sliding his hand across the swell of her breasts, and beneath the fabric to knead them between his long, expert fingers.

The pale color of her skin turned red beneath his touches, even her lips were red from his mistreatment. She moved her hands up to his shoulders, when she felt the warmth of his mouth at the side of her neck. He trailed his tongue in slow, strong circles, before he sucked down hard, marking her in several places. She tensed and squirmed in his hold, sighing and gasping at the sensations.

He laved at the skin beneath her ear, before taking the sensitive flesh between his teeth, "I find your innocence erotic…"

Emphasizing his statement, he pressed himself against her, allowing her to feel how affected he was already. The sheet had been compromised from his earlier adjustments and he felt the wet warmth of her arousal against his lower abdominals. He grabbed at the back of her legs and parted her with his strong hands, unwilling to go another moment without being inside of her, and slammed up hard into her body, filling her to the brim.

He claimed her lips as she cried out, arms holding her still as he began to thrust roughly into her tight warmth. The noises she made were swallowed greedily and mingled with his guttural moans, and grunts of affirmed bliss. There was no pain, no resistance. No blood, aside from what had trickled down the commander's neck. She lowered her head to taste the dark droplets, tracing over the trail. She was not skilled in any regard, but the touch of her tongue gifted her appreciative sounds, noises that went straight to her lower stomach.

Soon she felt an odd tingling in her thighs, drawing nearer like a slow build up, but there was no release to be had. He slid his fingers through her hair, bringing her back up to his curvy lips, feeling his teeth dragging her bottom lip into his mouth. It was absolutely wonderful and torturous. She never wanted their forbidden tryst to come to an end. She wanted him to touch her everywhere else. The feel of him moving inside of her, pounding into her, with his wet tongue entering her mouth repeatedly…

It was as though she was going to go mad, when suddenly – it all stopped.

The girl bolted upright into a sitting position and flung herself to the cold floor. Her legs inched herself further and further away, until she felt the solid wall at her back. The room was empty, for the exception of a bed – her bed. Her gown was still intact, as were her panties. It dawned on her that it was all just a dream, a very, bad, bad dream.

Her breathing slowed at the realization, but her stomach felt uncomfortable, and between her legs was an embarrassing mess. She was soaked through. She cautiously got to her feet and the door opened, two Exolon monks giving her looks of concern. They must've heard her unpleasant fall to the floor. She was somewhat glad that things were in order on the Dark Aster.

"I'm in need of a bath." They bowed their heads in compliance and she followed, skin flushed, and head dizzied. They performed the familiar ritual of adding oil, while she removed her dress, and sank down into the warm water.

It wasn't real.

It was all just a dream.

But like a shadow pain, she could feel his touches all throughout her body. It burned like a scar that grew increasingly sensitive beneath the water. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly against it. She couldn't decipher whether the experience had been a fantasy or a nightmare.

And she grew terrified of the revelation.

**TBC**


	6. Zero Mechanisms

**A/N**: Happy Valentine's Day, my hunnies! I'm sorry for the late, super late update. I worked on this chapter EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT. I hope you enjoy it and please forgive me. It is the day of love anyway, right? Thank you so much for your feedback!

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

06 – _Zero Mechanisms_

_The weakness that doesn't stop crushing me, _  
_will soon turn into ash._

She was drawing for the better part of the day, the black charcoal standing out prominently against the thin pieces of white paper, which she was allowed to bring with her from Hala. How it replenished itself daily, she really had no idea. She didn't want to think too seriously about it. Often at times, she would stop herself from sketching what she remembered of Xandar, deeming it as unwise should a certain Kree noble acquire an unusual interest in her artwork. For now, she'd stick with the obvious metallic interior of the Dark Aster, and its inhabitants.

The girl was in desperate need of a distraction, a strong one. A distraction so strong that it could rival that of the near paralyzing images that plagued her randomly. For at any moment at all, last night's dream would present itself, and it would take forever to dispel it from her mind. She could still see him, hear him, feel him – taste him even! It was an assault of its own cruel kind and she couldn't bear another moment of it.

The door to her chamber parted as and her blood instantly turned cold upon seeing Nebula standing there. They were, by no means, considered to be well acquainted, not like she had been with Gamora, and quite frankly, she preferred the assassin over the pirate.

"Ronan demands an audience," she said briskly, as if there were no time at all. He wanted it and he would have it, now. Perhaps it was Nebula's own special brand of impatience. As much as she was his errand girl, playing fetch for important documents or artifacts, slaughtering at his will, she wasn't known for something as tedious such as this.

The girl got up from her chair and followed without question. Her hair was once again pinned up to perfection with the addition of the black makeup. It was becoming a morning ritual. The gowns, if anything had grown more challenging by the layers. Even while bathed in its warped exquisiteness and imitation luxury, she'd still preferred her fitted leather attire. If it came down to it, she would try to stop Ronan from destroying Xandar. And she'd prefer to do it without the ruffles.

The room they approached was dark, much like every other room belonging to the Dark Aster. She could see off to the side stood Korath, with his gray eyes looking devotedly to Ronan. Nebula took her place and awaited the Kree commander's next order. The noble was at the center of the room, appearing both tense and exhilarated by what would be the obvious. He had what he needed to destroy Xandar. Maybe that was what he intended to show her today: Destruction.

She felt heat rush to her face when he narrowed his eyes at her, thoughtfully. He didn't know of her dream, but he sure as hell remembered last night's conversation. As if he would be willing to overlook such a thing.

"I'm glad you are here to witness this," he said, his voice smooth and resonating in the quiet space. If only his words were truly kind in passing. He stepped closer to her when she didn't immediately answer him, "No rebuttal? Perhaps you have learned your place, Inhuman."

Even if she could have thought of a response, she doubted that she would have been able to say it with any form of coherency. The floor was mightily interesting then, she determined, keeping her eyes on it as if something amazing were bound to happen. Maybe it would be kind enough to open up and swallow her whole.

A screen flashed on suddenly, a much larger projection that was similar to the one she'd seen on Knowhere. Instead of the past history of the Infinity Stone, it revealed a purple faced titan.

"The orb is in my possession, as I promised." Ronan stared up at Thanos, savoring each composed moment. He had something the titan wanted, finally. He had the promise of power and it was his to give or take away.

"Bring it to me." No appraisal, just demands. Not that Ronan would have wanted to be praised by Thanos, but he hated self-importance on anyone other than himself. Indeed, the Kree's hypocrisy was endless, and he knew it to be incurable.

"Yes…that was our agreement. Bring you the orb and you will destroy Xandar for me, however now that I know that it contains an Infinity Stone, I wonder what use I have for you." Korath handed Ronan the orb, whilst taking the Universal Weapon from him.

The Inhuman's eyes followed it then, death and destruction wrapped in metal, as it were. She wondered how Ronan could handle such a dangerous thing casually.

The titan on screen was furious, as he raised his voice, "Boy! I would reconsider your current course." Ronan parted the seals of the orb with ease and a familiar purple light glowed from within. The stone's essence was enough to hit everyone in the room. They could feel and sense its power like insidious air slowly filling their lungs.

Korath was insistent, "Master, you cannot! Thanos is the most powerful being in the universe."

"Not anymore," Ronan growled out, as he clasped his hand around the stone and tore it back, allowing it to consume him. The scream that was ripped from deep within his chest was enough to shake her frightfully, as she took a few steps away from him. Then it came swiftly, as she stared down at her fingertips, a strong pulse beating rapidly. Ronan's skin did not crack or peel away, but it could have only belonged to him. This was his heartbeat.

He reclaimed his weapon and fused it with the stone, the purple essence lining its metal creases, until it was covered. "You call me 'boy'?! I will unfurl one thousand years of Kree justice on Xandar and burn it to its core, then, Thanos, I'm coming for you."

Their communication ended on a rather pleasant note (for Ronan, anyway). The commander faced them with a pair of glowing amethyst eyes. The power of the stone reflected in them permanently and she took another measured step backwards. He had noticed it, however slight, but he knew that the Inhuman wouldn't dare to make a move. She would have been more likely to pass out, than to defy him.

Nebula was the first to speak, "After Xandar, you're going to kill my father?"

He expressed a look of deadly calm, "You dare to oppose me?"

"You see what he has turned me into. You kill him, I'll help you destroy a thousand planets."

The Inhuman felt her fingers across the wall, trying to stay conscious, and stabled. Maybe the pulse in her fingers was her own heart's wild thumping, and not his? Ronan was not likely to kill Nebula or Korath. The stone obviously didn't affect him, not like it did to Carina.

She turned her back towards them, leaving in an attempt to escape the intense throbbing in her hands. They were burning and she'd be damned if she was about to cry out in front of him. She held up the bottom of her dress to keep herself from tripping on it, the clacking of her heels echoing off the walls. She didn't remember the way to her bedroom, the map Gamora drew was a blur, but she was convinced that she would find it eventually.

"This child," Nebula said, shaking her head slowly. "Get her back here. Now."

Before the guards could follow through with the order, Ronan held his hand up to them. "I will see to her punishment myself."

The Inhuman looked over her shoulder, expecting to see or at the very least, hear the sounds of the guards trailing after her, but there was none. Her legs slowed down, until she was walking. It was then that she was able to fully catch her breath. So many thoughts came at once, the biggest concern being that she did absolutely nothing to prevent what had just happened. Ronan would for sure end Xandar as soon as possible.

There was nothing she could do…

She shivered as a cool breeze teased across her shoulders and she knew that she wasn't alone anymore. The ominous power of the stone was strong enough for anyone to detect. She turned to confirm it, seeing Ronan standing only mere inches away from her. The wall was to her back, as she immediately distanced herself from him, so that he wasn't so easily at arm's length.

The incessant heartbeat was there again, warning her. It had to be him. Ronan would die. She searched his face carefully, before roaming over the rest of him. He appeared to be fine as always. Oh, why the hell did she even care? She was probably the one about to die.

"You ran anyway," he said, keeping his tone glacial. "I do not tolerate insubordinate behavior. And although I have these rules in place, I find that you continue to press me."

There was, of course, something more to him, what with the infinity stone coursing through his veins. Let's not forget that he stripped his already powerful weapon with raw energy. He was darker than before maybe, more intense, if such a thing were possible. The stone could be slowly damaging him.

"I felt a heartbeat and I got scared, so I ran away." She wouldn't lie, since she knew better. He'd seen right through it.

"Explain."

"Whenever someone is about to die, I feel their heartbeat. I feel it now, too." She stared up at him, gaining a chill when he tilted his head to glare at her words. "It might be yours."

"Presumptuous, as well...And as for your insolence, you will pay dearly." He took a step closer to her and closed the space between them. She pressed herself further against the wall with her face drawn upwards, unable to look away from him.

"Please, don't…" She murmured, her eyes fluttering at the warmth from his body. He leaned so that their hips were touching and ran his hands up along her arms. His nails were like claws, as he dug them into her soft skin. "…die."

A slight curve of his mouth and they teleported and for what could have only been as long as a second, she felt lightheaded and out of her own skin. The room smelled heavily of spice and she had to strain her eyes to see anything. Before she had the chance to properly adjust to her surroundings, he shoved her towards the middle of the room. She couldn't see where he was, as she was only able to catch shadows within the darkness.

"Y-You are changed," she said, trying to make him out. "The power of the stone is too much for you to handle, even if you are Kree. You're not strong enough to contain it, at least not for very long. If you're hoping that I'll revive you, I don't think I will."

He chuckled darkly from somewhere behind her, causing the girl to sharply turn towards the direction, but no one was there. She could feel him everywhere and nowhere all at once.

"This heartbeat is yours," she whispered, trying to sound as confident as she felt about it. She even held her hand out, not that he would be able to see the evidence.

"It could be yours," He offered, as he stared at her from one of the dark corners of the room. She was brave for someone who had very little to be strong for…

"I know you won't kill me and if you do, I'll just come back again, and I'll be too young for you to control." That only meant that he had control over her now. Everything she said only seemed to dig her in deeper, but she couldn't stop the words from leaving her lips. He was the one who wanted rebuttals.

"You must feel protected then, Inhuman, shielded by your words."

She didn't answer him. Again, he would know it if she lied. Her shoulders caved in slightly, when she felt the warmth of his chest against her back. What sounded like chains clattering together above her head startled her, but she did not move. She knew that it would be useless to try and that this would have happened sooner or later.

He took both of her wrists and enclosed them in the heavy metal cuffs. There was a silver chain that ran between them with a collar at the end of it. He noticed that it fit around her delicate neck perfectly and felt an odd sense of satisfaction from it. He enjoyed the concept of having her chained, his possession truly, bound to submit to him in an act of punishment. Perhaps he would have her begging by the time this was all over.

The Kree noble came to stand in front of her, admiring his work with a harsh set of violet eyes.

"You will stand until your legs weaken. You will take this time to rethink your actions towards me." He gripped the chain just beneath the collar and forcefully brought her closer to him, "For I fear that I have been too merciful, too lenient with you. Why, the laws of my people would have had you executed for far less."

"Sounds like a weak society."

He grabbed her by her face, digging his short nails into her skin, "I would not test me. You are but an utterance away from seeing what I am capable of."

Her eyes widened, as she stared up into his dark gaze. She could see it, the clear evidence of the stone running throughout his body. The rhythmic flutter in her fingertips belonged to him. The Supreme Accuser would die, should he continue to absorb its powers. And currently she was arguing with herself whether to allow him to die or to sustain him, if she could, and if she could, how?

His hot breath reached her lips, as he leaned in steadily, "I see that telling you your history may have been unwise on my part, because now you think you're untouchable." His thumbnail dug deeper into her cheek, drawing a gasp from her lips. Her pulse quickened in response to the pain and her hands closed tightly. "There are ways of torturing you without having to kill you."

He roughly wiped at the blood that trickled down her cheek and brought it between his painted lips, slowly savoring the taste of her on the tip of his tongue. She watched his expression cloud over, eyes flashing darkly.

She could feel the heartbeat in her fingers slowing down, until it finally stopped.

"Why…" She asked, more to herself than to anyone in particular.

The Kree commander removed himself from her. It was as though something important had just materialized in his mind. He didn't have to wonder why he felt slightly more fueled, invigorated even, because he knew that the girl's powers had suited to recharge him when she'd used it against him before. That wasn't the part that confused him then.

It was the fact that the power being siphoned from the Infinity Stone should make him feel the same way, but it was nothing like the feel of her energy inside his veins. The tang of her blood was the same as drinking liquefied life. He could feel himself healing more swiftly and effectively, than his own natural regeneration. In the face of things, she was correct about the stone. It was weakening him and the price he would pay for power would be his own death.

* * *

She couldn't ignore the low grumbling in her stomach anymore. She was hungry. What she would give for another chance to sit at the dinner table. Her legs felt heavy, but they weren't ready to give out on her yet. The ache in her neck and arms was more painful anyway. She'd shifted her weight from one foot to another to relieve the pain in her hips. At first, she thought Ronan's sentence had been a joke, but now she regretted it. He was clearly being serious. When was he never-not being serious?

Apart from the obvious pain and hunger, there was also the fact that her throat was incredibly dry. What she would give for a droplet of water. The same water she'd forsaken on Xandar. She'd sworn to drink sparklers exclusively for the rest of her days. Now it seemed ridiculous. She willed herself to remain strong, since Ronan's lesson was to obviously make her feel grateful towards him.

And what, was he to just waltz inside the room in some pseudo anti-hero fashion? He'd left her there for what seemed like years, but had only been hours. Surely he knew that as a human, or an Inhuman, rather, that the experience was akin to a living hell. She supposed that could be said for anyone in Ronan's clutches. It was just very different from how she'd been treated by him or by anyone thus far. And she could handle his threats and his death stares, but everything was beginning to hurt, even her eyes.

Her sad attempts to heal away the discomfort were unsuccessful, since she honestly didn't know where to begin. Performing her powers on someone else was easier to accomplish, than on herself. What could she do other than rot? Each moment was precious to her, since she only had five years to live. And there she was, trapped.

She closed her eyes after awhile, drifting in and out of sleep. There in her mind, she went far away this time. She could almost feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, before it disappeared behind the thick clouds. She would always imagine Earth's familiar climates in all their glory, offering the scent of wet grass in the summer and the feel of rain against her skin in the spring. The first and last snowfall she'd ever witnessed was pure white and her eyes burned.

She couldn't help, but feel the same way about Ronan. She would stare right into him, captivated by the darkness he offered, but she knew that it would sting. The doors closed suddenly, pulling her awake. Her hand twitched to life, energy flowing through her veins, as the wild thumping in her fingertips returned.

"You have done something to me." It was Ronan's mouth pressed to her ear and she grew visibly still at his sudden closeness.

"The Infinity Stone is eating away at you," she answered and flinched at the brush of his fingers around her neck. He removed the metal collar with warm fingers. She stopped herself from thanking him, before continuing, "You will die if you don't desist."

He was in front of her then, peering down at her with cold glowing eyes, "Yet your blood has sustained me."

"Not well enough, apparently. I can feel your heart again. It's stronger this time." He didn't look well now that she was able to fully take in his profile. There was something wild about the way he was dragging his eyes across her body then, like a predator. His face was washed of the black paint and his armor had been removed. In fact, he was wearing very little.

"I intend on using different methods for consumption," he said smoothly, as he reached out to the front of her dress, and tugged the bindings free. The chains around her wrists clashed together, as she turned away from him.

She spoke to him from over her shoulder, her expression wounded, "I will willingly help you, if you withdraw from your plans to destroy Xandar."

"This exchange will not be negotiated, Inhuman."

"Then I won't make this easy for you," she said, stubbornly. He nodded approvingly, enjoying her small act of defiance. It was because he knew that she'd crumble, because he would try to break her. In fact, he was confident in the fact that he could.

"You will though," he said, looking at her seriously, as he grabbed hold of her face, and pressed his lips to her mouth. He had little patience and true to form, he was becoming weaker, in mind and in body. And instead of draining her of her blood, he would prefer to find another way, even if it meant stealing her innocence.

She stilled at the warmth of his larger body pressing against her, the flat of her hands pressing at his chest in a feeble attempt to push him off of her. A gasp escaped from her lungs, when he forced his tongue between her lips, parting them, and tasting them between his teeth. His hands went into her hair, pulling her head back, so he could kiss her deeply, exploring the corners of her mouth.

It was gradual at first, but he was starting to feel the effects of the stone retreating, like cool water washing away the grime. The fever that plagued him was nearly diminished by the slightest of touches. The white magic her veins housed, the breath of life that she had to give, he had to have more of it. He reasoned that it wasn't that she felt incredible beneath his hands or that she was appealing to the eye. He'd bedded plenty of worthier women throughout the ages. He even had the pleasure of taking princesses and other highborn Kree nobles to his chambers. So, what was it about this Inhuman that drove him absolutely mad?

Why did he need more of her? He took the chain linking her hands together and kept her pressed against him, as he dropped his mouth to the side of her neck, and sank his teeth into her skin. It wasn't enough to draw blood, but it did force another pleasing sound from her lips.

"Please," she breathed, trying to arch her body away, however the contact of their hips gauged a sharp inhale from the commander. She couldn't find the will to say 'stop'. It couldn't leave her lips, the more he teased slow, deliberate circles with his tongue. He sucked in her skin, bruising her torturously.

It was dizzying and soon she found herself on the ground with his body moving across hers like a shadow. He brought the chains around her wrists above her head, her arms following the motion. The look on his face was criminal then, dark and wanting. She parted her lips willingly when he slid his warm tongue into her mouth, dragging his teeth over her lips. She was what he envisioned to be pure and taking her meant to corrupt her, yet the energy coursing through him only spurred him to make her his. He wanted to destroy her intimately.

There was too much separating their skin. Her dress was like paper, as it tore easily beneath his rough hands. He pulled back long enough to roam his eyes over every inch of her. She felt exposed under his gaze, her chest heaving with every harsh, anxious breath. The contrast of his blue skin against hers caught her attention and she realized then that she was completely enamored by him, unable to escape.

He leaned down to tease his hot mouth across her chest, flicking his tongue out expertly, before closing his mouth down hard around the peaked flesh. The tight suction of his mouth caused her to arch beneath him, her breath hitching in her throat, as he grazed her skin sharply. The wet, messy _slurping _and _popping _sounds of his lips caused her skin to flush furiously.

His thighs fit between her smaller ones, as he spread them wide, and pressed himself against her. She could feel that he was already hard, since he was meticulous in the adjustments of his hips. She gasped at the sensations, while he ghosted his mouth along the side of her neck, and back up to her mouth again. His arm remained stretched above her head with his fingers tangled in the chain, whilst his other hand disappeared between their bodies to rip her panties free from her legs.

Ronan watched the expressions cross her face, as his long fingers worked over her already soaked skin, rubbing her in strong circles. The small sounds he gained in response to his actions did something to him, something that made him feel unhinged. Luckily for her, his patience had returned once the negative effects from the stone dwindled to nothing. He could have stopped there, but his body insisted making claim. It was irrational, dangerous even, yet he couldn't stop.

He pushed in one of his long fingers, feeling her body tense, and resist the intrusion. He moved his mouth in rhythm with his working hand, slowly slipping his tongue between her lips, easing her as a devil would a saint. He repeated the action and added a second finger, going as deep as his knuckles. She exhaled shakily into his mouth, the shackles above her clanging, as she strained to touch him. He could feel the slight tremors wracking throughout her body, overcome with pleasure.

"You are not much of a warrior," he taunted, while he brushed his cruel lips over hers with every harsh word he spoke. "Do you feel this…" He slowly withdrew his fingers and felt her walls close around him immediately. "Your body does not want to let me go. It wants me inside of you…" He nuzzled closely to her face, a breath away from another kiss, when he suddenly slammed his fingers back into her, continuing at an expert pace, until she was careening in bliss.

She felt as though she were going to go mad, when he stopped in his ministrations just as she was on the brink of her release. She could feel the dull ache in her lower stomach, a tightening at her very core. He disarmed her with a smirk, as she was forced to watch on in mortification, while he licked both of his fingers clean of the clear, sticky substance of her arousal. He made an appreciative sound and looked accusingly at her. He'd had enough, as he made small work of removing his pants. He was considerably larger, than she would have imagined – not that she'd pondered about the male anatomy very often.

He was actually quite beautiful to stare at and she could tell that he was confident in being exposed before her, shameless. His arms and legs were toned to perfection. His chest and lower hips were defined, as well as his abdominals. Not that she would get a chance to see it, but his backside was probably a sight to behold.

The commander used his clever touches to distract the Inhuman from the discomfort that would soon follow. She was still just as wet, if not more so, as he teased his thick cock between her slick skin. Her hips moved on their own accord, trying to gain more friction, when he pressed himself against her entrance. He stared down at her with heat in his eyes, unlike the usual cold emptiness, and it caused her to squirm beneath him. He moved a hand to her waist and held her firmly, as he thrust his hips forward into hers.

The cry that tore from the back of her throat was trapped against his mouth. He was just as affected, with his breath was caught in his chest at the feel of her tight warmth closed down around him. He was pulsing within her, when he slowly withdrew and slammed back in, stretching the girl beyond her limits, and filling her as deeply as he could go.

The strong, steady rock of his hips forced her legs back slightly with the impact of every thrust. He looked between them at where he disappeared in and out of her and licked at his dry lips. She felt wonderful, perfect even, as if her body had been made for him and him alone. It was a cynical thought, but not untrue. He'd always felt possessive of her, but never under these terms. It was then that he realized that she would have been safer on Hala. She needed to get away from him.

He tasted the salt that blanketed her skin, leisurely going over the dark bruises that had formed along her neck and collarbone from where he'd abused her with his mouth. He traced each mark with the sharp tip of his tongue. He decided that some of those marks needed to be redder. That he needed to go deeper. The slow burning that she'd felt at the core of her center would only eased with each hard slam of his cock, pulling her tight flesh from the inside out.

He pressed his weight against her with his arms at each side of her head, where she could see the muscles stretching and pulsing. She wanted to run her hands over them, sample the taste of him at her own discretion. In that moment, she wanted everything, but quietly settled for the bittersweet consumption of his mouth, and sucked on his bottom lip. The punishing nip she'd received in response was an additive to the pleasure that was already building up. She could feel it, hot – licking its way up her thighs like liquid fire. It almost mirrored the dream, but this was real, and it was more intense.

She shuddered against him, as small pleas died upon her lips, when he began pounding into her. The pace was hard and unrelenting, ravaging her with little thought. He didn't care to show her the stars, but he would completely wipe her mind of that too pure white and make her see only black. Her legs closed around his waist, the smacking of skin against skin was loud in the quiet room, and she whimpered at the merciless slams into her body.

When the pain started to override the pleasure, she felt his thumb press between her thighs, rubbing furiously in rhythm with his hips. The sharp withdraw of each thrust had her crying out and despite his best efforts to leave her in the dark, it was white that danced behind her eyelids when she came to her release. She rippled tightly around him like a pulse and he spiraled moments after with a couple hard thrusts. He came hard with a grunt, empting himself into her without fear of the consequences.

He pulled back enough to examine the mess they'd created, hearing her wince at the loss of him inside of her. It would be a lie to say that he'd avoided bleeding her. He wasn't surprised to see it mixed in with their release. The sight of her red and raw wet flesh made him feel animalistic. He was hungry for her. He wanted to lap at every inch of it and dirty her again.

The locks around her wrists were undone and he narrowed his eyes at her, wondering what she would do now that she was free. She brought herself up to her knees and leaned forward for a kiss. His hand went to her throat and he squeezed gently in warning, as he brought her closer to him. The air around them grew thick, as they stared at one another.

"I need more," he admitted, as he moved his fingers over her mouth to slowly part her lips, before he kissed her punishingly. He lifted her by hips, so that she was in his lap, and aligned his cock at her entrance. She teased her hands over the pointed tips of his ears and kissed him with just as much vigor, gasping at the rough pull of his mouth, as he grabbed at her hips, and shoved her down onto him.

There was no way to keep her from touching him. Her body was a damned traitor. She had his life in her hands, just as she did in the dream. She could have stopped him. It was her decision to give or take away his life, and she chose this instead, whatever the hell this was…

If there was a choice to make, whether to save Xandar or to spend an eternity burning in Hell with Ronan, then she had just chosen Hell. And for that, there would be no forgiveness.

* * *

**TBC**


	7. The Bewitcher

**A/N: **I feel like I'm taking a long time to update this story. I am so sorry. I did receive a lot of encouraging reviews and messages as well, so I will continue to write until it's completion. I'm not getting tired or less motivated in writing this story, it's just been crazy with time management. Of course, writing smut scenes requires a lot of mental preparation and harsh criticisms from one's self. I'm never satisfied when it comes to that part in my writing. And I'll have you know that I have never written more than one smut scene in a story. So, this is a first for me and I hope you all enjoy it.

**A/N/N: **I have heard that someone has taken the first chapter of my story. I want to thank everyone who reported it and took action. I'm not angry, I'm flattered actually. I did report this individual and I hope it blows over smoothly.

**A/N/N/N:** **CuriousOysters** ! I would have loved to reply back to your comment, since it was amazing, however you have disabled the PM messaging feature. I want you to know that I appreciated your review immensely. It's exactly what I needed to hear. I'm so glad you're following and that I did not disappoint you. Thank you so much for your kind words.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

07 – _The Bewitcher_

_The hands that kept reaching for darkness, _  
_Won't it be okay if they grasp anything?_

She awoke with a start, her arms and legs tangled in a set of comfortable dark sheets. Last night's events came to her instantly, swarming her mind. She had been compromised on so many levels and in so many different ways. She'd handed over her virtue to the man she sometimes compared to the Devil. Oh, she remembered last night very well. She'd chosen him over the lives of thousands or millions. Although, there may still be a chance that she could save Xandar.

Grabbing onto the sheets, she turned herself away with a laugh. Her face was buried into the pillows, stomach tense from laughing so hard. She ignored the aches throughout her body, slapping her hand onto the mattress, because it really was too funny. It was hilarious how badly she'd messed up. The laughter quieted as she grew somber, wondering if there was a side she truly picked when she had been too busy feeling conflicted.

She always thought she was a good person. Sleeping with Ronan did not change that for her. Right and wrong was still very real. She did not agree with anything he deemed as justified or righteous. She wouldn't willingly go along with his plans.

_'You will though…'_ His bemused voice was at the back of her head, haunting her like a mental apparition. She'd sworn not to make it easy and she did, just as he predicted. The fact that he knew her so well was unnerving.

She took one of the sheets with her, as she stood up from the bed, and wrapped it around her body securely. At some point, he'd taken her to his chambers and undressed her properly. It seemed as though he couldn't get enough of her, his appetite insatiable. She kept expecting him to realize his mistake in bedding her, but he never did.

She didn't want to slink back into the same dress, as if it would set her on fire. The monks were waiting by the door, bowing their cloaked heads at her formally, like servants. On her way to the bath, she'd noticed that her drawings were placed on a desk in his quarters.

"Why are my belongings here?" She asked, terrified and confused all at once. There was no way in Hell she was going to sleep next to him.

The monks said nothing, as they walked on in front of her, leading her to the adjoined bathroom. It was more spacious, than the one that she was always presented with. The drawn bath was a delightful sight to behold, as her numb fingers dropped the sheet, and she stepped in.

The warm water soothed and ached where she could see faded bruises along her skin. Not to mention how sore she was in other places. She shuddered to think about the amount of pain she would be in if she didn't have regeneration abilities. The vanilla scent was only but a brief comfort, for she was soon placed into another dress, and made presentable. Of course, she didn't expect last night to change him.

He'd simply taken what he wanted or needed, rather, and he would do it again.

Once she was formally prepared, they brought her to the same room where she'd learned of her history. It was also the same room where she'd called Ronan a coward. It was quite large and extravagant now that she had time to actually take it in. They intended to feed her breakfast, lunch, or dinner – she really had no concept of time. She was lost, even in the smallest and simplest of ways.

It appeared to be round two, when she saw Ronan sitting at the head of the table, glowering at her. He knew that there were a million thoughts running through her head and they were all wiped from existence, when he fixed his eyes on her. His pure Inhuman, pure no longer one would think, yet it had remained true, mocking and unyielding. It made him want to tear it from her.

He swallowed back his animosity, deciding that if he needed her regularly, that he would extend his civilities without faux pas. Ronan had been reformed at a very young age, as are all Kree. In fact, his manners were impeccable, than most nobles, and not in a spoiled way, but humble.

"Join me," he said, the smile he'd meant to flash twitched into a smirk. The authority in his voice was all too present, yet softer. The truth was that there really was no option for her. She'd end up sitting with him and that would be the end of it.

The grumbling in her stomach made her more willing to pull out a chair. She hadn't eaten anything yesterday and all day today, and last night's activities only enhanced the dire urgency to feast. Trays of food came, steaming hot, as their tops were lifted. Delight danced in her eyes, as she licked her lips eagerly.

He leaned back against his seat to watch, dark violet eyes piercing her, "You may eat."

"Thank you," she answered, filling her plate up with various foods she'd never encountered before, but assumed were tasty. Hopefully she and Ronan shared the same palette. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded curtly, not at all surprised. She would have questions after last night. The girl would be odd if she didn't and it was good to be upfront about their arrangement anyway.

"I noticed that my things are now in your room. Was there something wrong with mine?"

"Not at all." _Inhuman_, his mind practically sneered. He'd hold back on calling her that for as long as he could muster. He wasn't very optimistic. "I simply wanted you closer should another episode occur. Besides, it will be easier for the both of us if you are near me."

"I understand, but I can't agree. With all due respect, Ronan-"

"You will address me in the manner in which I deserve," he snapped at her, growing impatient quickly, "Say, 'with all due respect, _my lord_.'"

"With all due respect, my lord," she repeated, correcting herself.

"Your moving into my chambers is not to be negotiated." Now that sounded familiar. Her hand stilled in the motion of bringing food to her lips.

"Just like last night wasn't negotiable?" She asked, meeting his eyes in a long stare. It was her nerves that made her look away from him first.

He tilted his head at her, speaking lowly, "Precisely, which begs the question, how is the condition of your body?"

Sore, broken, aching – oddly and uncomfortably wanting more of it.

"That's none of your business." Of course those words would just so happen to slip out instead. She was terrified of voicing anything personal to him. He would use it, as he was known to be a manipulative bastard.

"Careful, Inhuman, you're treading at your own risk." He already knew the answer by the way she walked in this morning. Not to mention the small whimpers of pain she'd breathed, while he stayed awake, basking in the light of her magic while she slept.

"Why didn't you kill my parents when you took me in?" It was a valid question, one she'd been curious about for years. Maybe there was something redeemable about him. If only she could learn the reason and decide for herself if that was the case.

He was quick to respond, "They were not your parents."

She hadn't been expecting it, as she straightened in her seat. Maybe she would stop asking questions, since his answers seemed to destroy every lasting memory she cherished.

"Yes, they were."

The Kree leaned closer, "No. They were simpletons. Their blood was normal. You were always abandoned to be found, taken in by lesser humans. A more feasible idea to entertain would be that your ability is not of hereditary descent."

Her voice shook, "What are you saying?"

"Genetic alterations are not uncommon. You could have been manufactured, much like your bosom companion, Drax. Nebula, too, as you have seen. Flaws can be fixed and perfection can be devastated, and lost forever.

"Stop clinging to the idea that you are ordinary. If you die every thirty years, nothing remains the same as it was, including your parents. And if you are looking for a paternal bond, then you would do well to lose that childish notion quick, since hence forth, you belong to me. And my kind lives long years."

She bit her tongue, changing topic to one of more importance, "And your plans after Xandar, aside from killing Thanos?"

"I will return to Hala to claim a higher position. It is time that my people had a strong leader. They too must be judged for their newfound debauchery. They will pay for attempting to assert peace when there is none between the Kree and Xandarian kind."

"Back to Hala," she sighed, placing her fork down on the table, losing her appetite.

"Yes. It is home for us both. You are quite inquisitive today." A slow smirk grew across his painted lips, "Whatever should I make of it?"

"You will see it however you choose to, so my opinion doesn't matter." She scooted out from her seat and bowed her head, "My lord."

"I have not excused you."

"Well, I excuse myself, because I am not here for your enjoyment, and you certainly aren't here for mine. And since you need me, you should start acting more personable, if at all possible given your inebriated state." He was clearly drunk on power. She shook her head at him. "And I will not be sleeping in that room, with you. If you come for me, I will blast you through the damn ship."

She marched over towards the door, her shoulders tensed, and her hands shaking furiously. There was more she could say, so she made her way back to the table. "And I don't want to call you my lord, because you're not. And whatever these were…" She gestured towards the biscuits. "They were awful. And get some sparklers in this place, oh wait, the place that makes the delicious sparklers is about to become annihilated. Know of anywhere else to get good sparklers? Wanna destroy that place, too? Their eateries may not be Kree approved and all."

Her face fell at the dark expression on his face, "So, yeah. That's all I had to say." She turned her back on him and exited the room, walking quickly down the corridor. She was practically running, as if her life depended on it, which it may. She doubted that anyone had the gull to speak to him, as she just did, and saving his life or not, she was no exception.

Ronan sat chillingly still at the table, fingers slowly curling into a tight fist. There were too many things that needed to be looked over, things he had to prepare for, to go chasing after his Inhuman, and teaching her the basics in manners. He felt a shiver of cold course throughout his body, the unpleasant telltale signs of an oncoming fever. Perhaps he would leave his night open.

* * *

_'Blast him through the damn ship,_' her mind said to her, over and over again. She'd threatened the Supreme Accuser with such a thing. One look and she'd be dead, pointblank. His eyes were intense enough to stun her frozen. Imagine all the things that he could do, even without the stone's power. He could destroy her world within seconds. He could end her life brutally and keep a calm heart rate.

She was in her room, her dress lifted in her hands as she walked from one end of the room to the other, growing impatient. Every second she was allowed to think over and regret the words she'd said, the more afraid she became.

Sleep was out of the question or perhaps it was the only answer. Surely, Ronan wouldn't try to harm someone who was deep in their slumber. That would just deter him and ruin his flare. He would expect her to be pacing back and forth, as she was currently doing. How put off would he be to find that she'd rested easily.

"Hell, no," she whispered, wishing she had her paper, so she could draw, while she awaited death to come walking through her door. If he dared to, what with the threat she'd tossed about all casually. Maybe he was the one shaking in his boots. _Yeah, right._

Just as she was about to combust into an anxious, paranoid mess, the door gave a sigh. She felt her heart stop, when an Exolon monk entered the room with a tray of food. She really hadn't eaten anything and as much as she had promised not to forsake water, she had – verbally, shouting on about sparklers. She accepted the food and sipped back the contents in the glass.

Her fears and anger simmered, as her hunger and thirst disappeared little by little. As time ticked by, she doubted anything would happen. Facing Ronan might be something she'd go through some other time and sleepiness was coming on like a curse, as she settled atop the sheets, and curled up into the pillows.

Her usual vast dreaming world was empty and black.

She woke up not too long after she'd fell asleep, panic striking her veins like adrenaline. A pulse deep within her fingertips grew wild and loud. She could almost hear it. She stood up from her bed and stared around her room for a long moment. She expected to see Ronan there, in need, having no choice but to come to her for help, but there was no one there.

"Ronan…" She breathed, walking towards the invisible pull that would undoubtedly lead her to the source. It brought her to the door, but it would not open. He had her locked in and if he didn't come to her soon, then he would die. "Let me out. I need to see Ronan."

She smacked her hand against the cool metal, impatient. It felt like it was late in the evening, but she knew from experience that her Exolon maids were always there, or so they were the other night.

_ Maybe this was for the best… _

Her hand slowly withdrew from the cold door and she took a step back. The children on Xandar were laughing and playing. There was sunlight too, warm, and inviting. The people on Xandar will die preventable deaths, because she wanted, and desired to save a monster. She grabbed at her fingers, crouching down on the floor in agony.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered, irrational due to the pain. It felt like she was going to pass out, when the door parted.

She nearly fell backwards and reached out to do something – anything, as she promised she would. Ronan was there, his hand steadied against the wall. There was something rough about his breathing, beads of sweat collecting at his brow, and his chest was heaving.

He focused his glowing eyes on her defensive stance and chuckled darkly, "I dare you."

"Don't do that," she said, immediately. "I want to help you and yet I don't, so, please don't tempt me to turn away from you."

"You know nothing of temptation." He took careful steps closer to her, advancing as a predator would approach its prey, slowly and deliberately. "I have been fighting it, since after you left the dining hall. I knew that if I had my hands on you, then, that I would break you, and I'd like it. I'd love it all the more right at this very moment."

"S-Stay back," she said, needing to gain distance from him, but she couldn't. A part of her didn't want to and the other part of her was too afraid, immobilized with fear.

Moving closer still – he was able to grab her by the wrist, before she could will herself to retreat. His skin was scorching hot, as though he were running a fever. On reflex, she raised her other hand and a white light shined through the dark of her room, blinding when he looked directly into it. It stung like sharp needles across his skin. If her intent had been deadly and more pointed, it might've been easy for her to kill him. His poor, Inhuman, and all of her small giveaways.

In truth, he was starting to feel better already, as a charge of energy ran throughout his body. Her power was to give life or to take it away. If there was no end cause for her attack, then it only served to restore him. She was able to get her wrist free, as his grip lessened at the pleasant side effects. It felt wonderful to have her in his veins again. It was intoxicating and pulling on him, a weight that was he was oddly comfortable with.

The moment she'd lowered her arm, he was quick in his movements – wrapping his large hand around the front of her throat, and bringing her close to his face. The tips of her shoes dragged across the floor, skimming the surface, as he steadied her at eye-level.

She trembled, feeling his hot breath across her skin as he spoke, "What was it you said you were going to do, 'Blast me through the damn ship'. Still want to?"

"No…"

"I would not think so." He shoved her against the wall that was behind him, her head hitting the surface with a dull thud. His body immediately pressed into hers, as his needy hands went to the hem of her skirt, lifting the plentiful layers up, and yanking her panties aside. The shuffle of his pants was loud in the quiet room and her mind went numb, unable to think, only want.

Her legs parted when his hips moved between them, keeping her body pinned to the hard surface. He kept face close to hers, staring down at her with a pair of dark amethyst eyes. There was something cold and feral contained in them, dangerous. He placed his hands beneath her thighs, fingers spreading her open for him, as he thrusted upwards into her.

The tight resistance of her body caused him to suck in a breath. His hands kept her still, allowing her to feel him buried deep inside of her. The pulse of his thick cock was throbbing around her walls. She was at his mercy, the powerful now powerless, as her threats died around him.

He brought a hand up to the side of her neck, enjoying the small sounds escaped from her lungs, when he pressed his thumb into her skin. The taste of her lips was sinful to him. Once he kissed her, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from devouring her. He gave in, brushing his mouth lightly from her top to bottom lip, savoring the taste of her in small doses. He withdrew his hips nearly all the way, before he slammed up hard into her, and pulled back again. He repeated the motion, slowly and torturously.

"Ronan…" she gasped out, her short nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, faster…"

"That's not proper etiquette,_ Inhuman_." He once again withdrew from her, smirking cruelly, as he gazed into her eyes. He could tell that she needed him just as badly as he did her. It took every ounce of his restraint to keep from pounding her through the wall. "Please, _what_?"

He had to be joking. She glared at him, then, as she bit out, "Please, _my lord."_

"How pleasant you are when you listen..." he murmured evenly, voice as soft as silk as his words smoothed over her mouth. Another slow and hard thrust into her body caused her to whimper beneath him. He could no longer take it, as he changed the rhythm and depth. Her back hiked up the wall with every harsh slam of his hips, forcing her to hold onto him.

He ran his thumb across her lips, the tip of her tongue catching it along its path, when he pressed it between them, rubbing her in furious circles. She shuddered with pleasure, mouth parted for air, when he closed the space and kissed her firmly. She inhaled sharply through her nose, head dizzied from the lack of oxygen, soaring high on the brink of her release.

She cried out, feeling her orgasm tear through her. The muscles in his jaw clenched visibly, feeling her flutter around him. Once her body had calmed, he slowly detangled himself from her, and her feet found the floor. He'd allowed her to enjoy herself and now he would have her the way in which he so desired.

"Remove your clothing," he commanded, as he started to remove his armor. Normally he took pleasure in disrobing his women. He could scale their experience in doing so, actions fast and fevered or timid and anxious. The Inhuman's was just that, slow as if her fingers were numb, as they clumsily moved over the laced threads at the front of her dress.

She stepped out of the layers and shakily reached down to trailed her panties down off her legs. She wound her arms over her front, feeling his eyes roam over every inch of her. The scrutiny of that intense gaze made her want to disappear.

Her hands fell away as he approached her, smoothing his calloused hands down the length of her forearms, and turning her sharply, so that her back was flush against his chest. She sighed at the feel of his curvy lips brushing over the side of her neck, when he sucked down hard. She arched away in discomfort and his hand closed roughly over one of her peaked breasts, her skin turning red beneath his touches.

"Lie down on your stomach," he rasped against her ear, voice raw and thick with desire. She was hesitant at first, eyes downcast as she felt her hands over the sheets, and lowered herself down onto the bed. In the end, she'd do as she was told, as she closed her fingers in the fabric, overwhelmed by him, and anticipating every moment in his presence.

He decided to be selfish when it came to her and that he was owed every ounce of her being. Whatever she would give, willingly or not, was his to have. She tensed when he grabbed her hips firmly and raised her lower half so that her breasts were pressed heavily into the mattress. His added weight caused her to sink further, as he brushed the head of his cock up and down over her slick skin in a tantalizingly slow rhythm. He teased himself at her entrance, causing her breath to hitch in her throat.

And with a quick slam of his hips, he was buried deep inside her, filling her to the brim. Whether her sounds were of pain or pleasure, they were pleasing all the same, as he immediately started to move within her. The force of every thrust sent her forward, but his hands kept her in place, as his short nails dug into her skin. He wasn't at all concerned about bruising her, knowing she'd be healed by morning.

There was an area between her shoulder-blades that he wanted to explore, as he dragged his teeth along the delicate skin. All of his other marks had faded away and there was reason to make more. If there was any sure, permanent way of branding her, he would have done it by now. She closed her legs tightly in pain, ankles crossed, when he forcibly pressed his knee between them, and spread her even wider. The hard, relentless grinding of his hips drove him deeper, making her feel wonderfully full.

The consistent, pistoning heat pushing itself in and out of her was enough to make her scream, as pleasure blossomed sharply at her core. He was hitting a spot within her that he seemed to know well at this point. Her second release was more intense, than the first one. She could feel its slow, burning climb through her legs and finally at her center, as she trembled and gasped in bliss.

The pulsating warmth of her body clenching tightly around him pushed him closer towards the edge, as he sank his teeth into the back of her shoulder. Her knuckles were white in the sheets, feeling him begin to pound into her. His hands roamed possessively over her breasts and down lower over her quaking stomach, where she flinched, and moaned from the slightest of touches. She was deliciously receptive to him.

"You are mine," he practically growled, swearing against her broken skin. "I will never let you go."

The dark promise of his words swirled around in her mind, intensifying, and smoldering. He was meticulous in bringing her to her third climax, slamming into her roughly, putting actions to words, as he came soon after, cursing breathlessly in Kree. He emptied himself into her, milking all of his contents into her once again without precaution. His arm kept her pinned to his body, as the other sank into the bed beside her waist. His fingers curled into a fist and the surroundings changed to his bedroom.

In the end, he would have his way.

The sheets in her fists were his dark, familiar ones. She let go of them and attempted to move, when he held her still. "I mean the words I say, Inhuman. For what other law is there to live by?"

"Just because we have sex, doesn't mean that I belong to you," she said in an attempt to restore her dignity, but even he must know that it was a joke considering their positions.

He allowed her to ease away from him, pulling the sheets from the mattress, and covering herself up from his narrowed, unsettling gaze.

"I will make good on proving it to you in every short lifetime, in which you are born." He moved across the bed like a shadow, capturing her frail wrists and pinning them above her head without effort. He stared carefully into her eyes, a slow smirk growing across his handsome face. "You are afraid, because you know that I am telling the truth.

"That I will steal you, I will corrupt you. I will seduce you, time and time again. Hatred and temptation, you will come to know them intimately."

He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly, as if out of spite. He pressed her into the pillows, his hand twisting in the sheets and throwing them elsewhere. Long, skillful fingers pushed into her without warning, slowing in rhythm with his mouth, as he slowly consumed her.

"Just like this…" He murmured across her lips, swallowing her sounds greedily.

There was no escaping him and he was right, he could and would achieve all that he said. If her next life was anything like her current one, then she was doomed. She wondered if her body would be able to remember him, like a phantom pain. A small part of her found comfort in knowing that there would be at least one thing that remained the same, no matter how terrifying that one thing was.

She welcomed the darkness of his cruelties, arching against him in a wordless surrender, and gave in helplessly to ecstasy.

* * *

**TBC**


	8. Heroes Die

**A/N:** Hello, everyone! I hope you're all doing well. I want to thank you all for hanging in there and being patient with the terribly long gaps between updates. I wish I had more time, but please believe that I do work on it every chance I get. Your responses only encourage me. I finished this chapter 5AM yesterday morning and I am posting it at nearly 2AM. I know we're coming close to ending anything movie plot related, but I did intend on writing a couple more chapters that occur afterwards. So, even if its the end, it's not the end, end. Am I making any sense? lol AH...probably not.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

08 – _Heroes Die_

_I ended up not being able to see the beams of light, _  
_Does that mean I'm broken?_

The Accuser sat eerily still on his throne, the Universal Weapon strewn across his knee. They would approach Xandar under a day's travel. The Xandarians would pay for their accursed blood and atrocious culture. They were beneath him and yet entitled to his decree, judgment, and cleansing. He would do what his father before him could not, or dared not. There was more to revenge, than just slaughter. To make it personal and just, he would wipe them from existence, as easily as one might discard an old page from a tarnished book.

Nebula walked in, somewhat stiff from neglecting to renew her inner functions. She had been a busy girl as of late. Too bad Thanos didn't give Ronan the instruction manual on her wiring. At least then he would know how to dissemble her, should she end up as disappointing as her sister.

"Ronan, everything has been prepared for tomorrow." Even her voice was manufactured, as she had a slight mechanical undertone. Thanos had destroyed every _human _piece of her, turning her into nothing more than a robot, one of which he clearly did not favor. For Ronan, she had done well with the training he had pressed upon her, impressive, and agile, but it would never match that of her actual body. She would never be who she originally was, ever again, and the pain beneath the surface would eventually leave her susceptible.

"I expect a favorable outcome," he said, voice smooth and hushed in the quiet room. He would often find himself envisioning the broken rumble smoking hours after destroying Xandar. A plethora of burned skulls covered in soot and ash. Bone would fall apart into a fine dust. He did not think of Xandarians as individuals. He did not bother to acknowledge them in categories such as: women, children, and men. Xandar was just an object, a symbol of what he and his people had loathed for centuries.

They have killed plenty of his kind, spilt an ocean of noble and royal blood alike – most bloodshed belonging to his own family. Granted, he had killed some of their best, as well as their innocent. It was an endless back and forth, that needed to be resolved, and not with some piece of paper stating that it was over. There was nothing more binding, than the outcome of war.

_'You have become mad with rage,'_ his mother had told him, right before he'd been relieved of his duties. He would have been pleased with the fleet, as well as the ship they had granted him with, but he had been too thoroughly pissed off at the time. His mother was careful, knowing that pleading to him would be seen as weakness, and being strong meant nothing in his eyes.

He said nothing. Once his mind was made up, he remained resolute.

_ 'Please, do not make the mistake of clinging to the past.' _

It was as though she were talking him off the edge of a high cliff, but to no avail. The war must end with peace would have been her next comment, if he hadn't already turned away from her. It was they who had lost their minds and he would help them find their way.

There was only one time he'd taken a knowing dive into the insanity pool and that was when he decided to do business with Thanos. He'd been so infuriated with his own species that he'd confided in another. Thanos, the Mad Titan. He was exclusively known as the 'most powerful being in the universe', as Korath had so eloquently put it. Ronan completely disregarded it as an actual fact.

"What will you do with the girl?" Nebula asked, large black eyes staring into him. A part of her already knew that he intended to leave her out of the fray.

"She will not be involved." It was more so about her allegiance, than her power, as he had somehow managed to earn her trust. The thought of his Inhuman watching him make history by destroying a planet made him feel on edge for some unknown reason, but not so much so that it would put a stop to his plans. No matter what she threatened him with, he would remove Xandar out of the galaxy. The girl would be confined to her room, docile. She would not have the opportunity to kill him or resurrect the entire Xandarian civilization.

It was safer that way, for if either of the two scenarios should occur, then he would have no other choice, but to kill her.

Nebula bowed her head, respecting his decision. It was less for them to worry about anyway. The last thing she wanted to be assigned to was keeping the girl alive. War, though. She could feel the slight thrill of excitement coursing throughout her body. It was about damn time. She'd finally be able to stretch her legs out again and there would be one hell of an after party. It's not every day a girl loses her father.

* * *

"Who decided on freakin' red?" Rocket asked, as he squirmed uncomfortably in protest against the fitted attire. He pulled at the leather material hugging his groin and adjusted himself. It was a habit that he was unable to resist with or without a certain Zehoberei assassin present.

"But it's the color of Yondu's gorgeous blood red eyes," Peter offered, as he crossed the room and leaned against the wall. They had finished strategizing their plan after several long hours and were taking a much needed rest. "It's whatever they had leftover in the back and I'm happy with what we were able to find, especially for you, Rocket. Though, it makes me wonder if they were planning to stow away a toddler at some point."

Gamora entered the room, arms crossed and all business, "We haven't discussed what to do with the girl yet."

"_If_ she's still alive," Rocket interjected, coming to stand between the two of them. He didn't have high hopes after learning more about Ronan. He shook his head, "That broad appeared to be the small, fragile type. No more than a damsel in distress. She couldn't even handle her lager."

Drax was seated nearby, where Groot hovered without purpose, quiet in thought. A heavy guilt weighed on him ever since his loss on Knowhere. The memory of his wife and daughter full of life was like a blazing sun in his otherwise dim world. He used to find solace by envisioning them, but now he felt too ashamed. The girl who had defended him, absent of knowing the true cruelness of the world had known pain and probably much worse by now, because he couldn't save her.

"Ronan would not benefit from killing her and she is more valuable to him alive, than dead." Gamora's eyes looked to Drax's knowingly, watching him relax, although his concern was still evident. He wouldn't truly feel relieved, until he saw her again.

"Okay, so then he wouldn't place her in danger. She might not even be on the ship when he attacks," Peter argued, not liking the thought of leaving the girl in Ronan's genocidal clutches either, but their plans did not include any detours. Searching every room of the Dark Aster wasn't ideal.

"She_ will_ be on that ship and I want to get her out once we invade it, with or without you." Gamora stepped away from Peter, her dark eyes glaring hard at him, stubborn and intimidating. It was only adding to the growing list of the attributes he found oddly desirable in this woman.

"She fought admirably, but I could not protect her," Drax murmured, still remembering the sight of her. Palm out, bringing forth sharp warmth, a gale wind that had spun things around with its strength. "I agree with Gamora."

"I am Groot."

"Are you sure?" Rocket sighed, sharing a meaningful look with the tree, and slowly raised his hand up to join in the vote. "Count us in."

Peter grinned in an awkwardly amusing, yet annoying state of disbelief, "Fine! We will rescue the girl and when we die while doing so, because we will, let's just hope that she'll be kind enough to bring us back."

Everyone in the party, for the exception of Peter and Gamora, appeared to be confused by the statement, not having witnessed what the Inhuman did to Carina on Knowhere.

The tree beside Drax spoke, "I am Groot."

"Of course she's not god…" Rocket answered, palming his face, "…idiot."

* * *

The sheets were cold, as she slid beneath them. She had another unproductive day of drawing and worrying, as well as the usual, nearly essential banter with Ronan. She'd tried to reason with him about Xandar, arguing in vain. It was terrifying, trying to stand her ground against him, because he found ways to manipulate her. The truth in his words stung whenever he would close in on her, speaking them into her ear, and stripping her down to nothing.

The metaphorical hourglass had already been turned and the sands of time were slowly dwindling, grain by grain. The more she tried resisting him, the more he would exorcise his complete control over her. The persuasion of his mouth was disarming in its descent. Expert touches silenced her, as they smoothed over her body in a well-known ritual. He was cruel in his victories, without any semblance of restraint.

In fact, he was receiving another small victory at the present, as she was ready to sleep in his bed. A small part of her was grateful that he hadn't returned since their fruitless discussion at dinner. Now was probably the only real opportunity she'd have to fall asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what a normal life would be like, but he would keep invading her scenarios.

Pancakes at breakfast, he would knock the skillet off the burner. She would fear for being in contact with the hot metal or worse, being held to the flame. A walk outside in the fresh air, he would be there, hammer in hand, and given endless chances to kill or destroy everything around him.

She heard the door, pulling her from her tortured thoughts. Ronan's steps were heavy across the floor, as he stalked further inside the bedroom. He removed each piece of armor himself, dismissing the monks before he walked in. He could tell by her breathing that she was still awake, having paid close attention to her patterns.

He was naked once he was finished, his preferred method of sleep. He'd discovered that he could function for at least four hours without needing her _assistance_. When it pertained to her actual presence, he found himself wanting it sooner. She occupied his thoughts, even while he was on the brink of putting an end to an old war. Her words hadn't deterred him in the least, but her efforts were valiant.

_ 'If you destroy Xandar, you will lose something more precious.'_ That line at dinner, falling from his Inhuman's lips. He'd stared at her then, unwilling to let her eyes leave him. He wanted to see if she'd doubt herself and would be the first to look away, but she never did.

Her intentions were clear and pitiful – she wanted to save him. His mother had tried to do the same before he left. But he didn't need saving. No, he was far beyond it then.

The mattress sank beneath his weight, as he joined her. Although she had agreed to come to bed, she was still wearing her gown. Back on Hala, her clothes were thin. She never had to worry about the discomforts of itchy, noble attire. Long, blue fingers went to the front of her dress. She was on her back, posed with her arms beside her head on the pillow. It was a mocking declaration of surrender, since she was merely pretending to be asleep.

The bindings were undone, as he eased the material open. The cool air swept over her warm, exposed skin, as she fought to remain still. He was methodical, as he lowered her arms to her sides, and drew the shoulders of her dress past her wrists, and down her smooth legs. The sheets that covered her had inched, until they were off the bed entirely. Her stomach tightened, as she felt his hot breath tease across her skin, trailing dangerously low.

He wondered for how long she could keep the ruse going for. His mood had been grim all day, for the exception of this very moment, in which he was granted an opportunity to be both wicked and merciful all at once. She'd lost the argument and she would learn how to accept loss with his generosity. He took hold of her legs and parted them, so that his broad shoulders were between them. Even if she tried to close them, they would be caught.

She held in a breath, feeling his eyes on her without having to look directly at him. She could feel them burning through her, melting into her skin. He dared her to give herself away and she steeled herself for whatever was to follow next. He ghosted his lips over the front of her panties, before nuzzling his face against her center, inhaling loudly.

Before she could adjust to the embarrassment, he closed his black smeared mouth on her, sucking down tightly. The flat surface of his tongue began soaking her through the flimsy material, as it pressed against her in hard, firm strokes. The next breath she took in was uneven, her chest falling shakily. She suppressed the urge to moan, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip.

He turned his cheek against her inner thigh, his dark paint rubbing on her skin, as he nipped at the delicate skin to see if she would give herself away. Perhaps it simply wasn't enough. He moved her panties aside, the fabric thinning with his rough tugs, threatening to tear it from her body. The plump flesh in front of him was glistening with her obvious arousal. And when he parted her between his fingers, he watched her clench in anticipation. He pressed his nose against her and forcibly drove his tongue into her.

"Ah…" Her fingers closed into tight fists, pulling at the single sheet beneath her. That sound was like music to his ears, a chord he must strike repeatedly, until he's had his fill of it. He allowed her hips to move on their own accord, as she tried to push back against the sharp thrusts of his tongue. She wasn't practiced in moving her body. He placed his hands on her thighs and guided her firmly.

She opened her eyes to meet his gaze, feeling her skin burn beneath it. He appeared hungry, eyes glowing with power and something else. With each velvety intrusion, she sighed breathlessly. He should have done this sooner. Now it just seemed like he'd neglected himself. He replaced his tongue with a long finger, whilst resuming the torture of his mouth over her.

She could hear the noises of his mouth in the quiet room, slurping and sucking on her greedily. The quick, hard lapping of his tongue was too much for her to bear. A second finger joined – crossing over the other, expertly mimicking the rhythm of his mouth. The flush of her skin, her gasps for air, and her body careening in bliss was enough to satisfy him. And when she released into a trembling mess, he made sure to lick up every last drop of her.

"For what do you desire most, my Inhuman…" He dragged his mouth in a colorful trail across her sweat slickened body, black paint and red bruises. She leaned up to meet him halfway, capturing his lips in a strong and desperate kiss. He slowly pulled back, so that he could stare into her eyes, awaiting her answer. Her bottom lip quivered when he traced over it with the back of his thumb. "Tell me."

"You." _Only you_ couldn't make it past her lips, as he pressed her into the mattress, and granted her exactly what she asked for. He would soon listen to the melodic sounds of her pleasurable sighs and screams, as he entered her, and brought them as close together as possible.

For now, at this moment, he'd erase the war from her mind, as well as his own…

* * *

The morning came (_morning maybe?_) and her limbs protested weakly from last night's events. She did in fact heal, however the amount of damage Ronan inflicted required more time to be a full one- hundred percent. She gave in to the routine of bathing and being clothed, so that she was deemed presentable. One of the Exolon maids pulled a silk choker around her neck with a beautiful dark gem dangling from it. He was now resorting to jewelry.

Breakfast was brought to her in the bedroom and she was able to keep it down, despite feeling anxious, and sickened by what was bound to occur at any moment.

The door gave a sigh and guards entered the room, followed in by Ronan and Nebula. She turned away from her meal and stood up cautiously.

"We will be arriving on Xandar imminently." She felt her stomach drop at his words. "You will be locked in a room, until it is over. I cannot trust you to behave yourself, since you act on impulse."

"You have every right not to trust me," she said, as she stared up at him. Why did she feel so betrayed, then? "But it's only because what you're doing is –"

"Wrong?" He asked, as he smirked down at her, thoroughly amused by her naiveté. His expression fell to a more serious one. "I have entertained your many tantrums concerning Xandar, as sad as they were. There was no appeal in your words, not a single ounce of temptation for me, and I will not be dissuaded."

"I have to try, though…" She raised her hand out, before anyone could make a move to stop her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Nebula flinched at the odd warmth pinching over her nerves. It felt like knives were cutting into her. The guards could feel it as well, as they dropped their guns from their weakening grips.

"Ronan," Nebula gritted out through her teeth, as her voice grew harsh with each laborious breath. She was nearly forced to the ground from the agonizing pain she felt. He hadn't even flinched, invigorated by the energy in the room.

"If this is what you were planning to do all along, then I'm disappointed in you." He signaled for her capture and narrowed his eyes at her. He knew she wouldn't agree with him, but he certainly hadn't expected a fight. She responded by steadily twisting her hand towards the approaching guards, fearfully watching as they collapsed to the floor. Were they dead? Had she killed them? She didn't feel them – their heartbeats. She knelt down and reached her hand out, but decided against touching them.

Nebula took the opportunity once it arrived, having been given her own orders from Ronan. She roughly dragged the girl up by her arm, holding onto her effectively, as she pushed the needle through her skin. The Inhuman stared up at Ronan with a wide, hurt expression. Her blood was extracted into three vials by the time Nebula was finished, and she handed them over to him.

The girl stood there, dejected, and feeling completely numb.

"You could have asked for my blood," she whispered, feeling somewhat violated by what had just occurred. Nebula smiling sweetly in satisfaction didn't help the situation. "There were other ways."

"Do you expect me to believe that you would have willingly helped my cause?" He asked her, knowing very well what her answer would be. She didn't appear to understand her position, contradicting herself at every turn. "Nebula. I will be with you shortly."

Within an instant, they were someplace else, the room he must have been referring to earlier. The bright purple glow of his hammer caught her eye, as it faded to none. It was obvious that he had used it to teleport them. And apparently, he didn't have to touch her in order to accomplish such things.

He did not allow her time to adjust, as he captured her face between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to meet his icy stare, "You have failed them."

She watched as his lashes fluttered, the heartbeat in her fingertips alerting her. He already needed more. She trembled with anger, as he leaned down, and kissed her firmly on the mouth. His hands held her face still, as he tugged at her lips punishingly between his teeth. He could feel her quiet rage, like an electrical current running throughout her veins.

_Ga-guhn, ga-guhn, ga-guhn…_

She had slowly come to realize it, feeling cold the moment when it finally hit her. Her power had reached him, as well Nebula and those guards – there's no way he didn't feel it. Her nails bit into her palms, as her arms remained at her sides. She felt his tongue tracing between her lips, begging for entry. He should have been sustained by her power then and even now as he was kissing her. The mere touch of her should have restored him, but even as she stood there, completely seized by him, she could still feel a heartbeat.

He moved his hands across the necklace around her throat and tugged it free, so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingertips. Her pulse quickened under his touch and he sank his teeth into her bottom lip, pulling it sharply, until she gasped in pain. His tongue was unrelenting, as it delved deeply into the warmth of her mouth.

_His death…implemented by fate…_

"You will be safe here," he said, as he brushed the back of his fingers over the side of her face. She closed her eyes against the soft touch and her body wracked with a chill, but for other reasons. She couldn't will herself to look directly at him, afraid that her eyes might give her away. It took everything in her not to say a word, to refrain from letting him know the outcome of his war.

Perhaps Xandar would be saved in the end and she'd live out the rest of her life haunted. Even if things were unclear, one thing remained certain by that incessant, deadly humming – Ronan would die.

* * *

**TBC**


	9. The White Light

**A/N: **Hey, guys! This is a very plot-related chapter, so some of you or most of you might not find it that interesting. Some things are changed or different. You may like them or you may not. I can't say much about the ending. Just know that there's more chapters to follow soon. Thank you for continued support. I mean it.

**QUESTION: I've been replying back to your story reviews in PMs. Is it better to post them on the chapter page or in PMs? Hm... Let me know. **

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

09 – _The White Light_

_I can only think of the countless pain as proof. _

A white room on a dark airship – she shook her head, as she looked around her place of what would hopefully be her temporary confinement. There was nothing more unsettling, than being oblivious as to what was happening around her outside the walls of her room. She squinted at the offensively bright lights, wondering if this was what it was like when others felt her 'power'. Was it this painful? She'd spent so much time in the dark, too much time perhaps.

Her hands covered over her eyes as shields, while she lowered herself to the floor. There was an abundance of water and a tray of those damn biscuits. Ronan had a rather awful sense of humor. She was almost certain that he had everything to do with what the room would look like, as well as contain.

She couldn't just be expected to wait here. Not in the middle of a war against an entire innocent civilization. _Yes_, Ronan was persuasive in the moments where they had been alone. _Yes_, she had already agreed to fall into the deepest hole in hell for him. _Okay, alright_, she had been claimed by a monster, and not the aristocratic prince that he was meant to be. _What in_ _the hell_?

But she was strong and she had power, power that even made Nebula feel uneasy. Her power had brought Ronan's guards to their knees. So, why couldn't she take down walls? She slowly stood up and rolled back her shoulders. Her fingers were tingling with nervousness, but no matter. She shook them and steadied her palm out in front of her. It seemed so ordinary, no different from what her hand had always looked like. Although she'd used her powers plenty of times since, it had always been in times of need, and when she absolutely had no other choice.

Now she had a choice, she was in need, but she also had time to think about it. The action had to be natural and not forced.

"_Please_," she begged, as she curled her fingers towards the door. Her arm trembled, as she put everything she had into it.

Until the end, she agreed to do everything in order to try her very best. She lowered her arm and stepped closer towards the door. The floor beneath her shook and she could hear what sounded like the marching of guards down the corridor. She thought she'd heard the sounds of gunfire not too far from where she was currently locked in.

The battle between Ronan and Xandar had already begun.

_ 'You have failed them.'_ He'd said it to her as though she was the last wall separating him from his goal and he had knocked it down, a metaphor to suit her situation. She knew that there was more to his words, than what he was letting on. She felt like every move he'd made thus far had been false and that the only true moments were when they shared a bed together or spoke at the table. He couldn't be both romancer and maniac.

"Liar…" She murmured, as she drew her arm out once again and repeated the action as many times as it would require. She was furious, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. A breathy sigh echoed at the back of her subconscious – his sighs. The sounds they had made together, the way he'd moaned her name, as if he'd lost her.

Tears escaped down past her cheeks – tears that left her stunned, not realizing that they were there, until they'd fallen. The warm trail was wiped away roughly with the sleeve of her dress. Her power was not meant to crush doors, but even so, she needed it to be out of the way.

Since the moment Ronan confined her to the room, she could feel nothing. There wasn't an indicator to let her know whether he were still alive or not. How was she expected to work under those conditions? The bright, too vivid image of Ronan on the ground lifeless interrupted her from her concentration. _Not even a small spec of ash remained…_ She grabbed at the side of her head, as if that were the place that stored the vicious delusions. The thought of Xandar being destroyed and Ronan dead for his efforts was enough to enrage her, but the door still would not budge.

To have it bend, just as her hand was doing, to manipulate the metal, until it gave away, or to tear it apart entirely. She'd give anything in that moment, the goodness in her, as well as the bad. To whatever higher being was currently watching from above, she prayed that they would grant her the strength that was necessary.

She wasn't one to extend her prayers very often, fully aware of their usual outcome.

"It's different today," she whispered, staring directly at her exit. "There's too much that must be avoided and to evade this crisis, I _have_ to act. Be on my side, only for today. I'll be quiet afterwards. You will never hear from me again. I'll never ask for anything, _anything_ else."

She was desperate, speaking aloud to no one just in case her thoughts weren't loud or clear enough. It felt as though she was about to break, when the door started to tremble and dent. A little bit more. She stepped forward and it was crushed to the point where it had collapsed over into the hallway.

The girl's hand stilled and slowly dropped down at her side. She was expecting guards and Exolon monks to come rushing in, but no one ever came. It made her feel relieved, yet also troubled. She cautiously walked out into the corridor and instantly felt sickened by what she saw next. There were bodies scattered on the ground, consisting of those who were assigned to make sure she stayed put. She moved across the wall, clinging to it with a hand over her mouth in fear.

There was no one else around to take responsibility for it and she refused to believe that it was by her doing, giving a small shake of her head. She needed to snap out of it.

"We knew we'd find you sooner or later!" The voice said, belonging to Peter Quill. Gamora, Drax, and Groot were trailing after him. Under normal circumstances, she would have been plenty relieved to see them. "And what in the hell happened here?"

Gamora looked around at the carnage, her eyes surveying the obvious. The dread was written all over the Inhuman's face.

"I am glad you're safe." The assassin was being honest, as she approached the girl with a welcoming hug. She placed a green hand on her shoulder when they separated, and held her firmly. "Leaving without you was never an option."

The girl's smile was both sad and nervous, "Thank you." She then threw her arms around Drax when he stepped closer to her, releasing a withheld breath against his bare skin, "I saw Groot pull you out… If he hadn't been there, you could have died. It would have been my fault."

He was reluctant to embrace her at first, but slowly found his hands on her back, "Neither man nor alien can defeat me so easily."

"We have to keep moving," Gamora said, as their united moment had come and passed, and showed them the way. Being back on the Dark Aster was unpleasant for her, but not so much so that it would stop her from storming in on Ronan.

The room they entered next was dark, nearly impossible to navigate through. In fact, the longer they stared on for, the darker the shadows became. Groot extended his hand out and soon small, flora-esque bulbs of light started to glow all around them. They were like the wishes on the head of a dandelion, blowing away. Dozens of them swarmed and traveled up and across the room, illuminating their path.

Touching her finger to one, the Inhuman felt warm then, perhaps protected even to some degree. It would have been better if she knew that Ronan was safe. The Kree commander, who misunderstood everything, would soon die, because he'd turned his back on reason. If she saw him again, she would show him, until he understood.

"When did you learn to do that?" It was Drax who had asked the question, drawn in by the light.

Peter looked around, finally able to see what was in front of him, "Pretty sure the answer is, 'I am Groot'."

"The flight deck is three-hundred meters this way," Gamora said, as she continued on walking steadily further. They were close.

"I want you all to know that I am grateful for your acceptance after my blunders. It is pleasing to once again have friends." Drax looked to Peter then, "You, Quill, are my friend."

"Thanks."

"This dumb tree, he is my friend." Groot extended a nod his way, letting him know that the gesture was returned.

"This small girl, she is my friend." The Inhuman smiled at him, touched by his kindness.

"And this green whore, she, too…"

"Oh, you must stop!" Gamora shouted, as she paused to glare over her shoulder at him.

Nebula dropped down, her dual blades in hand. She was ready to take them all on if necessary. She narrowed her eyes at the girl among them and wasn't at all surprised by it. Killing her would be the best thing she'd ever do for Ronan.

"Gamora, look at what you have done. You have always been weak. You stupid, traitorous –" She was shot in the stomach by the rocket launcher in Drax's arms. He didn't think twice about firing it at her, sending the luphomoid backwards into the darkness, where she laid broken. Her wiring knew just how to fix her up, as it attempted to piece her back together.

Drax lowered the weapon, "Nobody talks to my friends like that."

Gamora looked over at them, wanting to deal with the task, as well as Nebula herself, "Head to the flight deck. I'll shut down the power to the security doors."

The Inhuman remained where she was and didn't walk ahead with the rest of them. "You might not believe it, but I've learned to use my powers, not well, but enough and I would like to assist you."

The assassin was shaking her head already, "I let you volunteer once already."

She touched Gamora's arm, holding it gently, "Allow me to make the same choice again, since it was not a mistake the first time."

"What did Ronan do to you…" She stared at the Inhuman, searching her eyes for any traces of regret, but there was none.

"He made me stronger." It wasn't a lie. All and everything that he'd ever done to her made her realize that she was never weak.

"_I_ will take care of Nebula. You disable the power."

"Got it."

They approached Nebula's broken body, Gamora with her hands up in surrender, "Nebula, please."

She didn't want to fight if she didn't have to. It would be more beneficial to convince her that Ronan had gone mad and that it would be wise to join their cause. Having Nebula on their side would be better, than not at all. Besides, she didn't like the idea of having to hurt someone she grew up with referring to as 'sister'.

Once the pirate had finished piecing her dislocated joints together, she came in charging. It would be a losing battle should the girl use her power, she consciously knew of this fact. She'd never felt pain like it before and she had lived through a considerable amount of it. She was certain that she could slit the girl's throat before she could raise her arm to defend herself. She lunged forward towards the Inhuman, coming down with her blade. Gamora blocked it at the last second with her retractable weapon, directing Nebula away.

The pods above the Inhuman housed the energy keeping the security locks in place. There was only one pod marked as F. Deck. She pulled it down and stepped away from it, her hand out to shatter the glass. She tried not to focus on the fight happening only a few feet away from her. She didn't have time to see if Gamora was gaining or losing the upper hand in their battle.

The girl steadied herself, when the ship – or something outside the ship, had crashed or been crashed into. She felt a cool breeze then, air from outside invading the Dark Aster. She really didn't want to know.

"Behind you!" Gamora shouted from her spot on the ground, trying to pull herself up.

The Inhuman had enough sense to duck and she could feel the deadly whisper of metal just above her head. Strands of her long hair were on the floor beside her. She had moved just in time, watching as Nebula's sword went right through the pod, cutting through all the wires. The electricity running throughout the steel of her blade shocked her in harsh, painful currents.

"Thanks," Gamora breathed, grabbing her sister by the back of her shirt and throwing her roughly in the opposite direction. Although the assassin lost her blade, the two were still evenly matched in combat. A solid kick to the chest sent Nebula backwards, being dragged down towards the gaping hole in the side of the ship.

"Nebula!" Gamora reached down, once she'd gained a stable hold for leverage. "Sister, help us fight Ronan. You know he's crazy."

"I know you're both crazy." Nebula severed herself at the wrist with the use of her other hand, falling through the sky into a war between Necrocrafts and the remaining Ravager fleet.

Gamora cried out, watching on helplessly, "No!"

Stop Nebula? Yes. Kill Nebula? No. That wasn't what Gamora had planned. The assassin watched as Nebula landed on a ship beneath her, having timed it perfectly. She punched through the windshield with her injured arm, and threw the pilot out to make her escape.

"Come on," Gamora whispered, eyes cold as she regained her footing, and walked past the Inhuman. The surroundings grew more familiar, as the assassin cautiously led the way. She picked up one of the guns from off the ground next to a dead guard. She knew that the girl wouldn't accept a weapon, deciding against placing one in her hands.

She shot at the ceiling, watching as the foundation fell away, and jumped up into the room above them. There was a guard waiting for her. She was quicker in her draw and shot him down with ease. She then helped the girl up and turned with her gun towards the front deck, knowing who would be there. Peter Quill and company joined, arriving at the very same moment as they did, making excellent timing.

_'This was it,'_ the girl thought, _'Time to stop the villain.'_

Ronan watched as the city beneath him perished. The Necrocrafts had done a fair amount of damage down below. He'd already changed many lives with his violence – Xandar was no longer considered peaceful. He hadn't faced his intruders yet, having preferred to enjoy the scenery. The commander addressed them within his own time, his eyes falling immediately to the Inhuman standing beside Gamora. How she'd ended up back on their side, he did not have to think too hard on it, for it was in her nature to fear him, to loath him even.

Before the Kree could do anything more, than just stare, Peter Quill readied one of Rocket's explosive concoctions, and fired it straight at his chest. The blast that came afterward shook the ground beneath them. The girl hadn't expected the attack to happen. It was strong – she had become restless trying to see through the smoke. There was fear in her actions, as panic gripped her tightly, and she ran forward on instinct.

Gamora tried to grab hold of her, but the Inhuman's wrist slipped from her fingers, "Wait! Stop!"

The girl was irrational, having been bound to him. The invisible string that kept her tied to him tugged at her, and pulled her in. She rushed through the cloud of smoke and into the dark. She ran away from Peter Quill and his heroism. She ran far away from Gamora, the assassin who wanted to stop killing. She was too far away now, from Drax, the father who would not stop, until he'd avenged his wife and child. She'd lost Groot in the distance, the tree who had more understanding and wisdom, than the lot of them. And somewhere there was a scheming raccoon, who was more human, than most, and couldn't see her.

The commander was protected by the infinity stone, still in one piece. Just as he had went to turn around, he felt a pair of warm arms closing around him in a familiar fashion. His Inhuman was up on her toes, trying to hold onto him. The yells around her grew silent in her mind, the declaration of wrong and right was deafening in that moment.

"You chose them," he said to her gravely, the violence and power gone straight to his head. Perhaps some of it was his wounded pride. He didn't need reason to punish her. He slid his fingers through her hair and yanked her head backwards to glare into her fearful eyes.

The guardians had drawn in close enough to defend her, when Ronan twisted his hammer at them, and sent them backwards onto the ground. He roughly released the girl at his feet and he knew that she wouldn't dare move. It was Drax who was up first, charging straight at him at full speed. Ronan was quick, wrapping his hand around the man's thick neck, and held him up.

"How history so often tends to repeat itself," the Kree whispered, both bitterly and thoroughly amused by the predicament. It was the same scenario they shared on Knowhere. "Only, who should I kill first this time?"

Drax desperately grabbed onto the hand around his throat, as Ronan stared up into his eyes, pinning him there, "I was mistaken. I do remember your family. Their screams were pitiful. I –"

A ravager ship came through the front of the flight deck. The Kree commander didn't have much time to think, willing himself out of shock in order to move. His limbs felt heavy, as he then dropped the Destroyer and immediately covered the girl with his arms. Her hands were in the sleeves of his armor, as she buried her face against his chest. They clung to one another through the damage.

A clear thought came to Ronan, one that disturbed him. His Inhuman was always small and fragile, but at some point, she had become smaller, more fragile, and he was consciously aware of just how mortal she was...

The wreckage tore throughout the room like a storm. The intensity and danger of it was impossible to comprehend, along with the large, broken pieces of the Dark Aster, and Rocket's ravager ship. The Accuser closed his eyes for a long moment, accepting that he was not able to move just yet. He would have to be patient, as the infinity stone worked to heal him.

The girl lying on top of him was unconscious, for he could hear her small gasps for air. He took the time to press his fingers into the girl's skin, inspecting her for any injuries she might have sustained. His hands smoothed and traced over her, until he'd found something buried into her back. He was able to wrap his entire fist around it.

Despite his best efforts to keep her safe, she still ended up injured – impaled even, by what felt like a jagged piece of metal. He kicked the heavy debris from off his legs, freeing them. They'd had been sent into the next room, out of sight from the others. Judging by the sudden change in the velocity of the ship, they were spiraling downwards, and fast.

He pulled her against him securely and carefully moved them to a smaller, more confined location. The more closed in, the better for the fall. He would have enough time to remove the shrapnel from her body, which would make it easier for her to heal. He pulled the metal from her back and felt her warm blood starting to rapidly trickle down over his fingers. It was practically flowing. He was quick to tear at the hem of her gown and he fastened it tightly around her waist.

His large hands tilted her face upwards so that he could look at her. She was incredibly pale then. He could feel the soft, weak flutter of her pulse at the side of her neck. He used the hand that was on her neck to pull her closer into his arms, and held her as the ship descended to Xandar.

He was grateful that she wasn't awake for it, knowing full well that she could end up traumatized, if she wasn't already. The ship gave a monstrous roar when it collided with the planet beneath it and the foundation shook hard on impact.

Ronan slung her arm over his shoulder, as he hoisted her up into his arms. The hammer in his hand glowed ominously and lit their path through the dark. Electrical wires sparked and smoke caused from the burning wreckage made it difficult to navigate, but he was able to find the way. The girl's limbs dangled, as he carried her passed it all. He had rested her head faced towards him, as to not strain her neck and would glance down at her every so often. She looked content, despite the small abrasions and soot along her cheeks and forehead.

He was able to find a place where she could rest away from harm and near the fresh air. He decided not to involve her should things go the way he planned or should they go awry. She did not need to witness his greatest success or his deepest failure. He lifted her face once more and pressed his mouth against her lips, kissing her lingeringly. He could still feel the warmth of their contact, when he stepped out of the Dark Aster and into the light of the sun.

The Kree commander smirked leeringly, despite all the things he should be displeased about. It was the infinity stone that made him return to his _senses_. He could hear the Xandarians and their frightful gasps of terror upon seeing him alive. He felt satisfied with their looks of complete despair over their soon to be lost planet – _Oh, Xandarians_.

"You killed Groot!" The small raccoon charged at Ronan and with a single twist of his Universal Weapon, he sent the creature backwards onto the ground.

"Behold! Your guardians of the galaxy," He mused, looking over at the supposed heroes. They were defeated in his mind. "What fruit have they wrought? Only that my father and his father shall finally know vengeance. People of Xandar, the time has come to rejoice and renounce your paltry gods." He raised his hammer, feeling the strength of the stone coursing through it. "Your salvation is at hand!"

It sounded a lot better in his head, not that he'd actually rehearsed the big moment, but he still had beliefs, whether they were right or wrong. There were plenty of ways he wished to express them. He was putting their bloody past to rest and creating a better history for his people. The rage that he had allowed to consume him grew dull then. Despite the fact that he never acknowledged that he had a heart or that he was capable of feeling things like regret or loss, something did not feel right to him.

His hand curled into a fist around air and he imagined a warm touch. When had it disappeared? The woman he'd left behind in a burning ship. He didn't truly know if she was healing or dying. He would not allow her to shake him. Not now. He still craved to see all of Xandar wiped from existence. He would watch them disappear, until they were nothing.

"Listen to these words…"

Peter Quill had begun to dance, thus having the Kree's undivided attention. It bought Rocket the time he needed in order to reassemble his explosive. Groot's sacrifice would not be in vain. It would amount to more, than just their lives. Drax took formation, as Rocket instructed, and just as Ronan turned to regard them, his Universal Weapon took a critical hit, and the infinity stone separated from it.

A particularly sinister part of Ronan wanted Peter to grab it, just so he could watch, as the human was torn apart, and was stripped of his flesh.

And when that was the outcome, that was what the commander had expected to happen, as he chuckled at the center of the purple and black storm. The energy was tearing through the human, slicing into his skin. But he'd managed to hold on, as his companions joined hands one by one, and absorbed the power unto themselves.

Peter Quill opened up his palm and sent the power of the stone hurling back at Ronan, betraying the commander. The incredible pain he felt seized him and ripped through him, until there was nothing left of him.

_Not even a small spec of ash remained…_

The stone was closed back in its casing and Yondu had showed up, proving to be a real pain in the ass. Peter was able to make the switch just in time, refusing to hand over the real orb, and sending the ravagers off with a troll doll.

"Where is she?" Gamora asked herself, as she pressed her hand into her injured side in an attempt to relieve the pain, while she limped towards the ship.

"It's dangerous in there," Peter argued, as he wandered in after her. "Wait for me."

The assassin almost overlooked the spot where the girl appeared to be resting. Gamora dropped to her knees and reached out a shaking hand to check her pulse, and gave a sigh of relief when she felt it. She gently grabbed both the girl's arms and tried lifting her up.

"She's bleeding," Peter said, noting all of the blood down her back and against where she had been leaning. He inspected how tight the cloth around her waist was tied. "Someone slowed it down though."

"She'll heal," Gamora said, as she stared up at him, before draping her arm around the Inhuman and taking her out to safety. Drax and Rocket were still sitting next to one another, a single broken tree branch held tightly in the raccoon's grasp, and Drax's hand petting between his ears soothingly.

They looked up, watching as Gamora and Peter emerged out from the ship, seeing the Inhuman alive with them. She was locked away within herself, kept under in a dark sleep. It was as if she knew what she would have to face should she open her eyes to a new world – a world without him.

_Not even a small spec of ash remained…  
_

* * *

**TBC_  
_**


	10. Win Some, Lose Some

**A/N:** Woohoo! Welcome to the most difficult chapter that I've ever had to write. Thank you for your kind comments and for enjoying this story. We're not finish yet though.

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

10 – _Win Some, Lose Some _

_The sky I looked up to someday is too far away _  
_and I even forgot how to fly._

The people of Xandar were still crying. They'd lost so much, even though they had won. No, not won – _survived_. The girl had spent hours in front of what remained of the Dark Aster, but she didn't feel _him_ there. When she asked what happened, she was met with different answers, mostly of the insensitive sort. Peter Quill was quite pleased with his witty catch phrases, before he unleashed the power of the infinity stone onto Ronan.

It was fine to kill him. She could have lived with Ronan dying. She too would have killed him if it meant stopping the destruction of Xandar. However, she would have also been able to bring him back to life. But she needed his remains in order to do it.

"Please, save my daughter!" A woman fell to the Inhuman's feet, having watched her bring back various women, men, and children. She understood that bringing back these innocent lives would not sate her desire to pull him from hell – because that was where he most certainly resided in while dead.

Even while she found herself exhausted, she continued to restore the shattered lives that surrounded her. She held her hand out, focusing, and watched as a light washed over the young girl she was working on. She was only four years old. _Four years old_. A blood covered hand with tiny, broken bones kept her from stopping. Soon, the child opened her eyes, and was animated, completely filled with life. In a way, she was fixing the Kree's mistakes. She was undoing the harm that he'd caused. He would want to kill her for it. Well, she dared him. Come back from the grave, haunt her, discipline her, and to do his worst.

"My husband was one of the men who died... He was part of the Nova Corp fleet that shielded us. Those who had fallen into the water haven't been retrieved yet," another woman said, as she held a tissue up to her mouth to keep her from sobbing, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She grabbed the woman's palms comfortingly.

"I'll need to go out there, then," The Inhuman said to one of the Corpsmen. They took her out without question, instructed to do as she asked by Nova Prime herself. The girl clung to the side of the ship and stared down into the dark water once they were stopped. It was difficult when she couldn't see where the bodies were, but she could still feel them. They were lost far beneath the surface and there were hundreds of them.

She used both hands to envision those broken bodies, taking each and every one of them, and placing the light where it belonged, like a candle burning beneath a lantern. The guards watched on as a bright glow grew from below the water. It shot across for miles, covering over the entire area. It was the most she'd ever done with her ability, as she fell to the floor, and caught herself on her hands.

They could hear the loud cheers coming from land. It was to welcome the troops that were resurfacing for air. They were swimming back to shore, some of them to meet with their families or loved ones. Denarian Saal looked around at the men he'd fallen alongside of, somewhat relieved, and mostly ashamed. The love he treasured the most was Xandar itself and he was all too happy to see her in one piece.

* * *

_'You're awake,' Gamora murmured, watching as the girl stirred from her long sleep. She'd lost a lot of blood, but was thankfully conscious. There had been concerns that she wouldn't wake up. The assassin took hold of her hand and leaned in closer. 'How do you feel?'_

_ 'Horrible,' she admitted, while taking an anxious look around the room. 'What happened? Is Ronan – is Xandar still?' _

_ 'We're at the Xandar infirmary and as for Ronan, he's gone.' She didn't know what the Inhuman's relationship was with the Kree, and was choosing to be delicate in regards to the situation. The girl combed her fingers through her hair, bringing it to the top of her head. _

_ It was fine. She could just bring him back to life again. She'll bottle him up and take him somewhere safe. They could go back home to Hala and live quietly. Blue skin pulled tight over muscles and bones – a blunt structure of freckled skin and an arrogant smirk. The deepest hurt she felt was the absence of his words, not just his words, but his voice. She had to go back and see for herself. _

_ 'I crispy fried barbequed that bitch,' Peter said, nonchalantly, as he walked through the door with a bag filled with food and a cup tray that held four sparklers. 'Well, first, I challenged him to a dance-off.' _

_ 'You did what?' The girl asked in a voice as low as a whisper, feeling her heart sink at his words. It wasn't the dancing part that troubled her. She felt sick. _

_ 'We had the jams, I just brought the moves in.'_

_ Gamora answered for him, 'He was disintegrated. There isn't a body. There were no remains left from it. The stone took everything.'_

_ 'You should have seen it. I opened my palm and the stone just knew what we all wanted and," Peter emphasized his statement by snapping his fingers, causing the girl to jump. '…just like that, he was gone. I mean, after all the screaming was over.'_

_ 'When were you able to bandage up your wounds?' Gamora asked, remembering that the nurse said that the girl would have died if there hadn't been any pressure applied to it. It was a fatal injury that was saved by a torn piece of fabric and her (unknown at that point) ability to heal._

_ 'I didn't.' She had a hard time remembering anything after Drax had charged in to save her. Ronan related the moment to the one they had on Knowhere, which had nearly been identical. Then something else happened. A ship crashed in and then everything went black. _

_ That must've been when she lost him._

* * *

"Nova Prime would like a word with you." It was Denarian Dey who had come to fetch the Inhuman. She'd done enough resting for the day. They walked down the white corridor, which was an odd change for her.

The woman standing at the center of the room beamed a scarlet painted smile in her direction. Her heeled boots were tall and what she would imagine to be painful to walk around in for even a short amount of time. Her pale skin stood out against her platinum blond hair. Or maybe it was white – she honestly had no idea. She just wanted to be alone, so she could crumble in peace.

"I've heard a great deal about you, my dear." She didn't move from her spot, simply observing the girl in front of her. "On behalf of Xandar, I would like to thank you for extending your abilities. Many lives were saved today."

"Not everyone was as appreciative to have been brought back," she said, immediately. The Nova Corpsmen in particular weren't too fond of being resurrected. They had died honorably, protecting their people. "Some say they touched heaven."

Nova Prime laughed then, steely blue eyes cutting through the Inhuman, "That was hardly your fault. You couldn't see through the water. A second chance is a miracle, which is why I'd like to offer you citizenship here, in Xandar."

"I can't stay here, even if I wanted to. Everyone knows what I can do and they're going to come to me whenever someone they love is injured or dead. Others will hear of what I've done and they'll want to use me." She shook her head at the offer, trying to shut her mind off, because she thought of Ronan and all of his warnings. The Kree was trying to avoid this exact situation.

"We can keep you safe." It was a promise coming from Nova Prime. To keep the girl on their planet, she'd agree to do almost anything.

"And you'll find yourself dead no doubt."

"One more thing, then, since I cannot persuade you," she said, as her face fell into a gentler expression. "What name do you go by? Denarian Saal was concerned over the fact that you were without an identity."

_'Inhuman…'_

"Inhuman." It was what_ he_ called her. It may be nice hearing it fall from someone else's lips with time.

"Inhuman you may be, my darling girl, but your name is your legacy. I've never met an Inhuman with powers such as yours. Surely, there is more to you, than just a definition."

She stepped forward, eyes widened, "You've met more than one Inhuman?"

"Not very often, but I have, yes. They're located on earth for the time being, but they're considering relocating soon. They're staying hidden in the Himalayas." Nova Prime studied the surprised look on the girl's face, realizing then that she knew very little about her own people. "Your citizenship still stands, but I'd like to propose something else. We can arrange to take you to earth. I can even offer you an expressway between planets, should you wish to return, under the condition that should another disaster fall upon us, that you will extend your help."

"You have my word." Saving Xandar a thousand times more would not be enough to make up for what Ronan had done to them.

Nova Prime accepted the cup of tea she was handed, but she never did bring it up to her mouth for a sip. Perhaps she didn't want to mess up her lipstick. "I'll have a contract written up. How soon were you hoping to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning, if that is at all possible. There's still something that I have to do."

_Something…_

"Of course." She'd resist trying to keep the Inhuman on Xandar. Her initial response was going to be, 'that soon?', but that would only lead to false imprisonment for the Inhuman. She could only hope that sometime in the future that the girl will return. Earth was a boring place to exist, not even a mirrored world.

* * *

The Milano was restored to her previous glory as a reward for helping keep Xandar safe and the Guardians were about ready to take off and find their next adventure. She smiled at the crew of five, since she was counting the twig in the flowerpot. She held no grudges, knowing that what they accomplished was for the common good of all. Xandar destroyed would have been a complete and utter tragedy.

"I thought you would come with us," Gamora said, as she crossed her arms defensively. She felt uncomfortable leaving the girl behind, considering everything they'd been through.

"Finding out where I come from comes next on my list." It was a shameless lie. A half a lie, really. There was something else she'd have to do before then. She couldn't share it, not with her new friends, or with Nova Prime. What she planned to do next could hurt plenty of people should things go awry.

Peter nodded at her answer, understanding it all too well. He'd planned to learn more about his father. "I can't argue with that answer."

Drax stepped closer to the girl, his eyes downcast on the ground. She tilted her head at him sadly, lowering her face until she caught him there. She brought him back up, as she trailed her hands across his massive arms.

"It's not like it is goodbye," she told him, as she leaned in for a hug. He was reluctant to let her go, watching her slip through his fingertips.

She crouched down on her heels and smiled at the flowerpot. "My power is to give life…"

"Not to things like us," Rocket said, bitterly. There were fresh tears in his eyes ready to fall at any moment. He'd been holding himself together well, but she could see the stitching about to give, and come undone.

"If you believe in it and I believe in it, then maybe I can give life to all things, Rocket." She covered her hands over his smaller ones and stared into his eyes. "Why can't I give life to other beings? So, long as there is a life force, we should be able to nurture it."

The twig glowed in response, causing the raccoon to swallow thickly. When the light slowly withdrew, he had expected something to happen, anything, but it didn't. He slumped visibly and released his next breath with a shudder.

"I can't bring back what's already alive," she said to him, giving Rocket a meaningful look, one of which inspired hope. "Continue to care for him as you are…"

After seeing off the only individuals who she would ever consider calling her 'friends', she walked back to her temporary quarters for some sleep. Tomorrow she would have to face her decision, all dark and opposing, but her intentions were pure enough. If everyone was going to live through this tragedy, then she would make sure that he did as well.

Just like a true image of Beatrice, she would send for her Dante, and free him from hell. She closed her eyes once she was beneath the sheets and her mind wandered further towards The Divine Comedy. She'd read it on Hala, multiple times, so engrossed in the writing. She doubted Ronan had ever touched the book. It wasn't his style, at all.

He was merely a collector of so-called good literature.

_Through me, the way into the suffering city, _  
_ Through me, the way into eternal pain, _  
_ Through me, the way runs among the lost. _

* * *

The morning came, slower than she would have preferred. She truly just wanted to get this over with, afraid of what time would mean. What if waiting was in fact doing more harm, than good? What if there really was nothing left of him? There wasn't much to pack up, a single dress, one of which had been ruined beyond repair, and was only kept out of sentiment.

Nova Prime was waiting as per usual at the center of the room, in control of all that went on around her, acting as an overseer. She really hated to put her in a situation that would prove her incompetence. The girl didn't wish to invoke the mistrust of Xandar, because she was quite fond of the planet, and its people.

"Ah! Inhuman…" It felt weird for her to say it, peering at the girl's beauty. There was a more befitting name for her – something like Rose or Lily, a soft and floral name. "Shall I see you off?"

"Almost. There's only one more thing that I need now. I can't go anywhere without it." She shook her head, as a slow forming smile grew across her face. "It's not an easy thing to ask of you, Nova Prime, but you must trust me. I want you to see me as the girl who helped save Xandar and not as anything else."

The woman lowered her voice to a more serious one, "Anything."

"That's very gracious of you." And she knew that the offer would be taken back in just a moment, "I need to see the infinity stone."

"Anything, except for that," Nova Prime said, instantly correcting herself, standing firmly on the matter.

"I know." The Inhuman raised her hand up, seizing everyone within the room. She'd had plenty of practice to accomplish that much. "Right now it feels like a weight, right? I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't even want the stone. Inside it though, the stone has something that I belong to, or belongs to me, rather."

"This is outrageous!" Nova Prime seethed, her blue eyes enraged. "You couldn't possibly be thinking of bringing back that abomination."

_Abomination… _

"Not here. I won't allow him to repeat what he's done." The girl began walking past the stilled bodies, uncomfortable by the fact that she had to take it that far in the first place. "My agreement to extend my servitude should have been clear enough, yet you still don't trust me."

She walked down the familiar path, having watched Nova Prime place the orb inside a special vault that was heavily guarded by the Nova Corp police. The security remained frozen by her power and the metal pieces that concealed her from the last bit of hope she held, drew away. She reached inside and grabbed hold of the stone's casing.

"When I was a child, I used to wait back on Hala," she said, speaking loud enough, so that Nova Prime could hear her. "I didn't know what I was waiting for. The more I grew up, the more negative my thoughts became. I had started to fear him, thinking he wanted nothing more, than to kill me. Instead, he saved me. Now I need to return the favor."

She placed the orb onto the ground and stood away from it, readying the capsule that she kept in a small satchel. Her fingers stretched and she tried to feel her way through the stone's energy. She didn't have to expose its power in order to feel what she was looking for, tapping into it. She'd found it – dripping black and tarnished – a fractured soul. Her fingers closed tightly around it and she slowly pulled it into the glass.

Inside the vial, it looked like trapped smoke. She held it up to the light and beamed back a smile, "So, we meet again." She placed the capsule back inside her bag and put the orb behind the vault doors. Once she was back inside the main control room, she stepped close to Nova Prime, watching her tremble in place. She was obviously furious.

"Now I'm ready." She released everyone and immediately felt steel pressing against her shoulder. The police were only doing their jobs. Nova Prime had them stand down with the gesture of her hand. The girl knew that since she was an asset, her death would never be an issue, even if it were accomplished.

The woman said nothing, as she carried out her promise of seeing the Inhuman off. They said nothing to one another, until the time came for the girl to board. "If Ronan returns to Xandar in hopes of waging war against my people again, then I will see to it that you are both executed." Nova Prime glared at her then, meaning every single word of it.

She nodded, understanding, "I'll hold you to it."

The moment she stepped onboard the small ship, was the moment she was able to relax. It took courage to do what she had just done and she never wanted to do it again. She'd hoped that she still established some level of trust with Xandar, but her one act seemed to betray it all. She reached her hand into the satchel and retrieved the remnant.

"Is there anywhere specific on Terra you'd like to go?" The Corpsman asked, as they approached the planet.

"The Himalayas, please…" It was the last spotting of Attilan, the home of the Inhumans, according to Nova Prime. Once they had landed, the guard showed her how to work the radio, so that she may find her way back into the galaxy again. It would connect her directly to Xandar and she'd have to know how to read off the coordinates.

"Thank you." She watched until the ship was gone and out of her range of sight. It was over. They wouldn't have to worry about anything trivial. If Ronan didn't like staying with the Inhumans, then they could return to Hala. So long as they were together…

She walked further out into the wide field that was outstretched in front of her. The fresh air she breathed in was crisp and soothing. It felt like the beginning of summer in the mountains. Her legs came to stop among a bed of marsh orchids over by a river and she pulled the cap open to the vial, unable to wait a second longer.

_Ga-guhn…ga-guhn…ga-guhn…_

_ A place that was dark and infinite, no comfort, yet no despair. The sound of a droplet echoed through his subconscious and he could smell something sweet. Without form, but with senses and exposed nerves, how was it that he could feel the breeze upon his skin? _

She closed her eyes, trying to envision the Kree commander the way she remembered him. A personality that was unyielding, a broken belief system, and a rare kindness – the things she appreciated about him. An intensely penetrating stare and an arrogant smirk – they were consuming attributes of his. She would create him from top to bottom, until he was whole again.

_That sweetness filled his lungs, until he was drowning on it. Familiar warmth held him still and soon he was able to feel everything. He'd shed himself of the dark, as he would a shadow, and stepped beneath the light. _

There was never a moment where Ronan wasn't full of life, even while he was being cold-blooded towards her and others. She traced him in her mind, the claiming of his wicked mouth and the verbal lashing of the words from off his tongue – a pair of dark violet eyes.

The process was finished, but she refused to open her eyes, afraid of what might be there. She shivered when she felt the warmth of his body, before he reached out to touch her. He was so close her then. Even while his hands were at the sides of her face, drawing her lips upwards into a soft kiss, she didn't dare look at him. He slipped his fingers through her hair and brought her up onto her toes, wrapping a strong arm around her waist.

And when she was left gasping for air, he ran his thumbs beneath her eyes, silently begging for them to open. The moment she finally gazed at him, she was unable to look away, completely enamored by him.

The light had bled into the dark and he was alive once more. There was never a moment, in which he doubted her – his brave Inhuman.

* * *

**TBC**


	11. Year One, Two, and Three

**A/N: **I am so sorry for how long it took to update this time. I was actually pretty sick and was advised not to go near this story, until I was better. So, I did just that and I am feeling great! How have you all been? I hope your Easter was great ! 

* * *

The Canary's Cage

* * *

11 – _Year One, Two, and Three_

**Entry 01 / Years remaining: 5 **

The first, remaining year of her life, was spent in search of her species, the Inhumans. It was impossible to stay in the mountains, as they resorted to living an odd version of the country life in China. The Kree was stubborn in learning the ways of humans, calling it dirty or unbecoming. It had taken months for him to get over his apparent loss on Xandar, but he hadn't asked to return to the galaxy.

"I will have my bath now, Inhuman," he said to her, watching her sit at the desk with her journal. She was often spotted doing the very same thing in different locations of their cottage. A pen was between her lips, the cap sustaining bite marks around it.

She hadn't even acknowledged that he had walked inside the room, too immersed in her writing to pay him any mind. It was a mistake on her part, he decided, one that would have to be corrected. He approached her quietly and pulled the writing utensil from her mouth. The reaction of shock would have been putting it lightly, as she was still gasping from prior waves of fear.

"Yes?" The Inhuman closed the book and stared up at him, giving him her undivided attention. That was better. He turned the swivel chair towards him, both his hands settled on the armrest on each side of her.

"How forgetful you have become…" The commander smirked at her leeringly, as he leaned down and used his teeth to pull at her bottom lip teasingly. It stung, even after he slowly released it. "It's, 'my lord'."

"Even out here? Even after you lost your battle on Xandar, your men, and your pretty little battleship? You can't even find Attilan. Now you're demanding my respect?" She laughed at him, "That's amazing."

He was quick to grab her face non-too-gently, digging his short nails into her skin. "I would mind my tone when speaking to me, little one." She narrowed her eyes at his blatant condescension and brought her hand up against his jeans, feeling him hard beneath her palm.

"I don't think you would mind it all that much." The Inhuman yanked him closer by his belt and had his zipper down within seconds. Their frustration over Attilan was mutual. It was a tension that had been building in them since they started the damn quest. She slid her hand into his jeans and came into contact with his hot, bare skin, not at all surprised that he wasn't wearing the briefs she'd bought for him.

She pulled him free and instantly took him into the warmth of her mouth. Ronan leaned a hand against the wall behind her, releasing a shaky breath, mouth parted for air. He was struck by the pleasure of her tongue and lips encircling him tightly. He fingered the strands of her hair at the roots, tugging when he felt the soft, yet dangerous grazing of her teeth. His jeans sagged to the floor, as she slipped a hand to his backside, squeezing him roughly.

A low curse in Kree hit her in the pit of her stomach. His voice was deeper, too, whispering things he really shouldn't be, all promises and threats. Her hand joined in rhythm with her mouth, needing to use of the both of them to properly fit around him. Her saliva made each thrust wet and sloppy. And the noises he made only encouraged her. Frankly, she couldn't get enough of him. Nevermind what he was thinking, feeling, or wanting, because she would have him.

His pale mouth was parted in bliss, as his hips came forward on their own accord, further to the back of her throat. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked greedily at him. The commander fought with every fiber of his being not to hold her still and fuck her mouth anyway he pleased. She'd been the one who instigated this little scenario after all. It would only make sense that she finished it.

The Kree was too close, too soon, as he jerked her up from the chair. It fell over in the process, startling her. Befuddled by her sudden fear, he released her slowly, and watched as she stepped around him. The growing smile on her face was proof enough that it had been a ruse to get him to release her. She started to walk backwards, so that she could watch him. Each step, she worked on removing each layer of clothing. Ronan advanced at the same pace, eyes nearly black with raw intensity, as she continued to tease, and provoke him.

"You have no idea what I'm going to do to you…" He said to her, his voice quiet and strained, as he dragged his gaze up and down the length of her body.

He still craved to dominate and enslave her. She was the last remaining thing that he could control and possess as his own. Like a child who had broken all his toys, all except for one, he was careful despite his cruelty. Thin blue lips turned into a knowing smirk, as she bumped clumsily into the table behind her. He could have easily captured her and had her screaming beneath him, but he enjoyed this, whatever the hell this was exactly…

The small laugh that escaped her lips did something to him, something unexplainable. Ravage her, influence her, corrupt her – have her fall. The image of her broken body flashed at the back of his mind and he paused for a moment. An exposed shoulder and blood on his hands. On the ship that was now bitterly referred to as the Fallen Aster. There was a girl who danced in white, his Inhuman. His mind said to own her, hurt her, or to marry her.

The Kree had tested on humans and created her kind, the Inhumans. What would she think if she knew of that fact? What would she think if she knew that he'd hid it from her since the very beginning? Now was a good time to reconcile with her species. It would be wise to ally with them and use it as leverage to get back into the ranks, home on Hala.

Most of all, it would be good for their marriage. It would be deemed as acceptable, such a political inquiry. It would leave his true feelings disguised and his weakness never questioned.

She moved onto the bed, legs scooting her far away from him, until her back was against the headboard. He kept his eyes on her, as he removed the rest of his clothing. He made sure to take his time. It was her turn to be greedy, as she watched him. No more black paint and Exolon rituals. His clean, handsome face. She could make out the dark freckles along his chest and the tops of his shoulders. He had an enticingly secretive charm about him without ever knowing it. That in itself was addicting.

His smoothed his palms along her legs and roughly dragged her to the foot of the bed, so that she was trapped under his heavy weight. She was warmed instantly by the feel of his bare skin pressed tightly against her own. An expert hand was between her thighs, teasing her in slow caresses. He leaned down just as her mouth parted for air, slipping his tongue between her lips in languid strokes, denying her the comfort of oxygen.

It wasn't before long that they were moving as one, his hips pressing sharply into hers. She raked her nails down the curve of his back, holding him closely, as the slow grinding of their bodies intensified, and the pace and depth of it grew harder, deeper. His mouth moved tirelessly from her mouth to the smooth skin of her neck and across her peaked skin. She shook with chills when she felt the pointed tip of his tongue circling the flesh. The wetness was caught by air and it felt cold and hot all at once.

He slid his hands up to capture her small wrists, holding them high above her head, as he drove into her. He didn't like to be touched, even if it was by her. But there was something intimate about the way that they watched one another. Whenever he stared at her the way he was doing currently, he wondered if she understood what it was that he was demonstrating, which was the complete and utter control.

"Ronan… please…more…"

But when did she become so verbal? Sure, she would make noises. She was always vocal, but now she wasn't afraid to call out his name. She was bold even, to try and fight against his fingers that held her captive. Sometimes he'd allow her to escape just to see what she would do. His face was in her hands and she'd lean up to kiss him, feel him, and taste the salty skin at the side of his neck. His Inhuman would try and please him.

Her gift to him was simple. Exist. 

* * *

**Entry 02 / Years remaining: 4 **

They had found Attilan or rather, Attilan had found them. The Inhumans had grown tired of being hunted and demanded to know what a Kree and mere human were doing tracking them down. Their place of existence was on a mobile island, where they'd built an entire city for their kind. Ronan knew from observing them, that they were struggling, and would not make it much further. He was in the unique position to be generous.

"She's an Inhuman," The commander commented, the words coming on so casually to him, because he wasn't afraid. Of anyone. He was in front of the Queen of Inhumans, Medusa and her husband, ruler and King, Black Bolt. He'd heard the stories, yet it didn't deter him. "Her power gives life to those who are dead and also injured…"

"Is this true?" It was Medusa who spoke first, her long red hair reaching the ground. It twirled on its own without there being any physical movement or draft. She looked to her husband when the Inhuman girl didn't deny it, murmuring, "Then, you are home."

Black Bolt narrowed his eyes at the commander, not sure on what his play was, and not particularly interested in finding out. "You are no longer needed here, Kree."

"That's not an option." He slid his fingers through hers, holding her firmly to emphasize his statement.

"She doesn't belong out there, with you, on Hala, or even here with us." Black Bolt stared at the commander with a hard expression. He then slowly turned his gaze towards the girl, "A history lesson about your species. It was the Kree who decided to capture us, turning our people into superhumans as a part of their experiment."

The Inhuman slowly raised her eyes up at Ronan, a shocked and saddened expression that he could not return, nor forgive. Her grip on his hand grew slack. She felt weakened, betrayed. He'd known about it the entire time. She tried pulling free from him, when he instead turned her wrist so that it was held against her back, and out of sight.

"War makes us do desperate things." The Kree acted as though his words were reasonable, logical, when in theory, his people didn't need to build such an army in the first place. There were no justifications outside of power driven curiosities. "In light of everything that has happened between our species, perhaps there is a way to reunite us once again."

"We have never been in good standing with the Kree," Medusa said, leaning forward on her throne. Her tone was flirtatious, whether she'd meant it to be or not. The red of her lipstick reminded the Inhuman of blood. "What is it that makes you think that you have something of worth to offer us, when I'd have it mind to kill you where you stand?"

Black Bolt smirked at her threat, "Now, now. Let us hear it. He's come all this way."

"I can secure a new location befitting of your people, a place in the galaxy called, the Blue Area of the Moon. I will have to send communication to Hala in order to make the arrangements." The commander had never been more sincere, than he was being at that very moment. It was a simple solution that would resolve many problems.

"A peace treaty? Last time the Kree issued one of those, you nearly took out an entire civilization, just because you refused to uphold to the terms. How do we know that the same thing won't happen to us?" Black Bolt kept a steady voice, despite his disgust. He'd heard about the destruction delivered onto the peaceful home of Xandar.

"Because you're of value to my kind, for why else would we have created you to begin with? We seized the opportunity and acknowledged your worth." Meaningless appraisal that was probably true to some degree. Although his people were responsible for the project, he was not a part of it.

"Husband…" Medusa turned towards him and leaned in to whisper the rest of her words into his ear. Ronan took the time to inspect his Inhuman, feeling the raw tension seeping through and muffling the air. She was obviously furious with him.

"We have to at least consider the offer," The king said, snapping back at Medusa, who was not in favor of the plan. She slid a hand beneath his arm, using it as a way of manipulation. It was difficult for him to resist, until it came to the matter of their people and their dire situation. He glared at her, effectively silencing her, "This is not up for discussion."

"Do we have a deal, then?" Ronan asked, whilst tilting his head. A proud smirk grew across his handsome features, for he had already known the outcome.

The Inhuman was resting in their shared quarters. They had been allowed to remain on Attilan. She had no desires to view the mobile city, while Ronan dealt with the urgent 'business'. The commander hadn't changed much and what was worse, was the secrets that he concealed so easily. She wanted to know where she was from, who she was, and he had remained oblivious, as she asked for those answers. That bastard got to keep himself an Inhuman memento.

It all made her feel terribly lost…

Ronan returned after he'd arranged everything, having spoken with the Kree. It was amusing how they'd readily forgiven him. They were eager to hear of Attilan and wanted nothing more, than to assist them in exchange for their alliance and promised service.

He stepped into the dark room, not bothering to turn on the lights. It was a small, yet straightforward living space that included a bed, bathroom, and a couple dressers. They had lived better out in the country. He wouldn't linger on Terra, knowing that they wouldn't reside there for much longer. It was nearly time to go home and no matter how angry she was with him, it wouldn't last very long, for she lacked the fortitude.

There were triggers and buttons to his Inhuman. Small observations and clever analyzes – things that he could see while even in the dark. He lied down on the bed, feeling her curled up as thought she were ready to sleep, but she wouldn't. He raised his arms above his head in a familiar routine and closed his eyes. He was a liar. That was true. And if she wanted him to pay for it, then he would.

He felt her fingers dig into his skin like sharp claws. There inside of her, the power she kept was surging through her like a heavy drum. She moved so that her thighs enclosed his hips and pressed herself down against him. He would find himself in this position whenever she was inconsolable. It was usually for the things he never apologized for…

It was usually for the things that she remembered.

His mouth was soft and pliable, since he wanted her just as badly. Perhaps he even needed her. A rough nip reminded him that he wasn't the one in control, as he'd nearly devoured her whole. She raked her nails across his arms, using the grip as leverage to move her hips into his own, gaining a slow rhythm. She could feel him already hard. She adjusted herself, so that he could feel her warmth through the thin material of her panties.

_There had been a worse hell_, Ronan thought, trying to drag his mind away from the all too inviting body that was grinding sensually above him. _Don't grab her. Stay still._ She moved her mouth to the side of his neck, sinking her teeth into his skin. Her power was present, the light pins and needles causing him to flinch beneath her touch. He turned his face to the side, giving her more access to him.

She reached a hand went between her legs, grasping him as much as she could from beneath the rough fabric of his pants. She outlined him in her palm, while marking his skin as he'd done to her on so many occasions. The bruises she left on him were purple, unlike the red ones he'd leave on her. His breathing hitched considerably, gasping the more fervent her actions become. It hardly seemed fair to him.

The zipper on his jeans was lowered slowly, as she inched them down his hips. His cock sprang proudly from its confines, standing straight against his toned stomach. She moved her panties to the side and angled herself against him. He could feel how wet she was and groaned inwardly, wanting to take her by the hips, and shove her onto him.

"Is this what you want…" The Inhuman asked, while she moved the head of his cock across and between her slippery flesh, tempting him. "What if I were to tell you that you can't have any of it?"

He chuckled deeply at her words, "You'll give me what I want, because you want it just as badly. You're a dripping mess as evidence."

Her words were cold, as she leaned forward to trace the shell of his pointed ear with the tip of her tongue, "We'll see."

She lifted her hips and slowly lowered herself onto him. The deeper he went inside, the thicker he left. Her body resisted him at every inch, as per her regeneration process. She felt so incredibly full that she had to remain still, feeling him pulsating around her walls.

Her power was still pronounced and oddly pleasurable to him. It only heightened the experience when she started to move. The pale light coming in through the windows gave him glimpses of the goddess above him and her attempt to rule him. He rocked his hips up in rhythm with her body, meeting her at every thrust, feeling her shudder against him. He wanted nothing more, than to maneuver them, so that he was the one controlling the pace. He would rather have her at his mercy, although t_his_, t_his_ was interesting.

The build up his body was obvious to her, having studied every piece of him, especially during their moments of intimacy. His sounds – guttural and breathy – reached her ears, and she turned up the strength of those pins and needles. It turned from pleasure to pain real quick and it was enough to throw him off course. The girl was soaring in victory, as her climax was surreal and fulfilling, hitting hard at the core of her being.

Once he'd blinked away at the white flashes of pain, the commander sat up, and drew his nails across the sides of the bed, before he grabbed her hard by the hips. His mouth captured her lips between his teeth, as he held her down on top of him. He was much larger than she was, he could break her in his hands if he so wished, and he might. She would punish him by hurting him, but she'd never been this spiteful in the past.

"I can't forgive you right now," she whispered, trying to pull her face away from him. He moved his large hand between her legs, feeling her soaking around him still. She was sensitive to his touch, flinching when he began rubbing circles over her damp flesh.

"But you move so well…" He brought his mouth across her collarbone, flicking his tongue over her skin. He was persuasive, strategic, manipulative – her undoing.

She gave in, as one might surrender in shame to a losing battle. The burning at her center returned from the simplest of promises and touches. She clung onto him, as though he were her only hope for salvation. In the end, she'd been the one left begging, which was how he preferred it. Their bodies were in unison, driving forward into strings of release, and not stopping, until they were both numbed by it.

It would be meaningless for Ronan to regret the creation of the Inhumans. If his Inhuman had been ordinary, then she would have been dead for a long, long time. She wouldn't even exist to him.

He would never apologize. 

* * *

**Entry 03 / Years remaining: 3 **

White beaded pearls. An old heirloom passed down to her by the Kree's mother. The dress she wore was seashell white and it was stunningly beautiful. Her hair was done up, held by long pins that were lined with pearls. The Kree commander did not attempt to match his bride, back to his heavy black attire, and painted skin.

The wedding took place on the new location of Attilan, the Kree showing signs of good faith in their union. There had been much speculation over the fact that the Inhuman had lived as a Kree, being captured since she was young. There were doubts that she could stand as one of the Inhumans when Medusa's sister, Crystal, would have been more suitable.

It wasn't like a traditional wedding. There was no music, although there was a ceremony. It was given by an older gentleman, an Inhuman. He brought his glasses to the bridge of his nose and recited the ancient rituals of Kree.

Among those who were seated at each side of the isle, the Inhuman only had one true family. The same family who bit their tongues upon finding out that Ronan the Accuser was still alive and well. The same family who had raised their guns and sharpened their blades upon finding out that she would be marrying said Accuser. And it was that very same family who had shed tears when they had found out that she would die soon.

The Guardians had kept calm due to that last fact. It was why they weren't slicing that blue bastard into pieces. Even Nova Prime, along with Dey and Saal, had stepped away from their city to see the Inhuman get married.

When the ritual came to a close, the commander leaned down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. It was a kiss full of promise. It was a memory that she would forever cherish, like the warmth was written into her skin. His hands went to her cheeks, stroking her lovingly, as dark purple eyes searched for signs of doubt. There was only a reassuring smile in return.

"You are mine now, Inhuman," he said, as he leisurely kissed at, and teased her lips.

She stared up at him seriously, "I have always been yours…"

There was a sweetness in his actions, mouth against hers, hands on her face to keep her from straying. She could hear photographs being snapped and there was one in particular that she had favored, having it framed so that it could rest on the table beside their bed on Hala. They went to two locations for their honeymoon, her first choice being Xandar.

Her heart fell at the overwhelming amount of gratitude that awaited her there. There were people who were broken, that she had revived, that were walking around freely. Ronan's gift to her was to swear his allegiance to their kind and extending his apologizes to the Xandarian civilization. Not everyone forgave him, but those who had seemed to have restored something within the Kree. It was something akin to faith – nothing he would ever admit.

Ronan's location choice had been back on Terra, out to a cold windy place, which had a night sky filled with stars. The wooden docks they strolled along seemed familiar to her, as did the smell of the saltwater beneath it. They took a seat atop of blankets, snuggled up close to one another, and waited contentedly.

_There stood a small girl with her hand in her mother's palm, peering up at the torn lining of the sky. It looked like dust catching on air and it was then that she swore to believe in magic. _

They watched as an earthy shade of green started to grow from the sky, just beneath the stars. It looked like dust in the wind, shifting wondrously. Shades of purple and orange blossomed vibrantly, the colors bleeding into each other.

"I remember my mother." She said, as she looked over at him. "The one from this life, I mean. And she brought me here to see this..."

"I know." He stared at the water, taking a gamble by admitting to another moment that he'd been cruel. "It was the night that I took you from them and if you want to find –"

She shook her head at him, "No. I don't. It would only hurt them." She leaned in for a kiss when he went to object, pushing her tongue between his lips with a hum of appreciation. She pulled away enough to look at him, "Thank you."

Two more years and there would be no point, only more damage. Nothing would exist for this version of herself. In the end, it would all disappear.

* * *

**TBC** \- The next chapter is the last chapter!


	12. Genesis and Epilogue

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who had taken the time to read my story! I am so pleased that it was this long. I've been pretty big on one-shots lately, if you've seen my AO3 account, 'wolfeep' and hadn't written anything lengthy in a long, long while. Thank you for every review, every favorite, and every follow. Comments seem to be scarce and that's a writer's fuel when writing fanfiction. We share a bond, enjoying the same things. It's special! Also, thank you for informing me about the individual who stole my story. I took all possible steps to contact and report her, but to no avail. Thank you to those who spoke up for me. This chapter took forever to write, because I didn't want it to end. I have never written so much smut in a story before. This story is so different from anything I have ever written and I'm so proud of it. Thank you again! I hope you guys enjoy it. I'm heading to bed now, since it's 7AM. I will reply to feedback when I wake up!

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The Canary's Cage

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12 - _Genesis + Epilogue_

**Entry 04 / Years remaining: 02**

"Your assessment?" Ronan asked, as he circled the doctor impatiently. It took several long breaths for him restrain himself from choking the life out of him. He was consciously aware of his wife's presence in the next room.

"Her genetic material is outstanding. I've never seen anything like it and that's saying a lot considering…" He turned to face the Kree with a hint of excitement, but the look on the commander's face put it to rest. He didn't even finish his statement. "The answer you wanted was _no_…Unfortunately, she is unable to reproduce. She cannot conceive a child."

The doctor grew somber, knowing the Inhuman personally, and that she was a good person. There wasn't a living being in the galaxy who hadn't heard of her sacrifices and her abilities. She had volunteered her services to instill a healthy balance among everyone, swearing her allegiance to the study of medicine She was labeled the Princess of Light. Even the Kree had acknowledged her as their treasure. Marrying her was the proudest moment of Ronan's long existence, all war and revenge filled massacres aside.

Ronan narrowed his eyes, "And the other matter?"

"The tests were inconclusive. There is nothing that can prevent her from changing." He used term 'changing', because it sounded a hell of a lot better, than 'dying'. The Kree would already be pissed off with his results. "Even if we place her in a cryogenic chamber, until we do somehow find the answer, we still believe the process will occur…"

"Nothing can stop it, then?"

"I'm afraid there is no way, but what she's doing with her journal, I think it's good that she's preparing herself – "

"She shouldn't have to!" The man was startled by the growl of anger in the Kree's tone, but he understood it all the same.

"No, I suppose she shouldn't…"

The Inhuman's birthday was celebrated with great care. Everything had to be perfect and it wasn't by her standards, but by Ronan's, rather. He made it so that every year was something for her to look forward to, and not something she should be frightened of. They spent most of their time travelling, viewing the galaxy as an open door to uncharted territories. The Kree had seen things during his long years, things that would take centuries to show another, but  
he would get in as much as possible.

For dinner, they went back to Terra. The Kree was dressed in dark robes, hiding himself away from imposing stares. There was something she liked about France and the food that was served there. The Accuser minded his manners and criticisms, allowing her to do as she pleased with what was left of her life. He closed his eyes and smiled a brief, but bitter smile. He'd thought it again, 'what was left of her life'.

A slice of cake and a thin, long white candle at the center of it made her happy. He'd never understand why, even though she had explained it time and time again. 'A year passed is a gift', she had told him, but it wasn't – not for them. The flame was dancing in her bright eyes and he couldn't take that happiness away. He'd left her in a dark room for years, alone. Hurting her had been so easy. Breaking her was no real task for him. Something inside of her must've loved him from the beginning.

_'It's an aurora. Isn't it beautiful?' The woman asked, as she stared down at the child she'd fostered as her own. The infant who had been wrapped in a tattered cloth and left on their door step – how fortunate for her and her husband who had not been able to conceive for several long years. Adopting wasn't an option due to their salaries. They had almost given up hope. _

It was true that he placed her somewhere he would be able to find her again. And he did return for her, once he'd felt that the timing was right. She pulled her long hair over her shoulder and held it to one side, as her lashes drifted closed, and she made a wish. The candle's flame was gone, diminished by a single breath.

_A crowd of people were on the docks that evening, watching on in their awestruck reveries, oblivious to the Kree standing out in the distance. He stared into her, until she felt his presence there. Beyond the light in the sky, the girl caught a glimpse of something else – someone else. Blue skin seemed to glow against the midnight black of their surroundings_

_ Purple eyes surveyed her casually, unafraid. Last time they'd met, she'd been dead in an empty field and despite her young age, he could already see the woman she would become. She would end up physically identical. And with time, he would be able to decipher her powers. _

_ He reached his hand out towards her, offering himself. It wasn't a choice, but he would avoid stirring trouble on Terra if at all possible. The process was a delicate one and he didn't want to alert anyone of his newly acquired possession. _

_ The girl slowly raised her arm, mesmerized by him. She felt herself falling into it, when he was suddenly gone and there again, standing before her. He took her by the wrist and soon they disappeared. They were on his ship, but the small body in his grasp sagged to the floor unconscious from the sudden speed of flight. Teleportation wasn't a pleasant experience for a human and apparently couldn't be tolerated at all by children._

_ 'How disappointing,' Ronan muttered, as he lifted her into his arms, and brought her to one of the cells to rest. Once she was back on Hala, she would remain there. And he wouldn't have to bother consorting with her, unless it pertained to her ability's development. _

"Do you know how handsome you are?" She asked him, unblinkingly. If it had caught him off-guard, he was good at hiding it. She'd been lost staring at him, thinking of things that she shouldn't be, like how much better off he would be once she was gone. There had to be someone else out there, someone better. Someone he wouldn't have to worry about dying.

"Hardly."

"I'm thinking that my next life should be spent at a university. I still want to heal people, but maybe you should consider taking a new wife? I wouldn't be upset."

"No matter how many cycles you burn through. You will always be my wife." He set down his fork, holding her eyes, until she knew he meant it. If it weren't for the table, not that the distance made her feel any safer, she was sure that he would physically prove his answer. People or no people – which, she always got a kick out of dining with an alien commander in Terrian public.

"It won't be me, Ronan. Not really," she said, quietly. That was what bothered her the most. It would look like her, but it would be a lie, and somehow it hurt less to imagine him with someone else.

He changed the topic, "What have you been writing in your journals?"

"Thoughts, memories…I'm treating myself like an amnesia patient." She laughed, then, but his face remained expressionless as stone. He didn't find it funny. There were tears in her eyes, but they did not fall. "Not only will I disappear, but you will, too. You'll disappear from me. And there's still more that I want…"

"Stop."

"How? A part of me thinks that this is all a dream. It's better to think of it that way, so that dying won't be so scary. Dying will be just like waking up." She shrugged her shoulders and exhaled shakily, the tears were finally falling.

The French restaurant ambiance disappeared and she found herself engulfed in the comfort of their dark bedroom. She could feel his eyes burning into her. He was close to her, the heat from his skin reaching her, as he circled her body, until he was in front of her. The soft sobs that poured from her lips were immediately silenced against the firm pressure of his mouth.

She tasted wet and salty, a mixture that he found to be addictive. He would ease her mind for another evening. He would make her forget the end of her future. Calloused hands roamed over the length of her arms, seizing them almost painfully in his grasp, as the kiss grew deeper. She was brought up on her toes, as he slid his tongue between her lips, and stroked hers in strong, expert caresses.

A large hand went to the side of her neck and the other slipped beneath the front of her leggings – she was melting beneath his fast and thorough ministrations. He moved his mouth to whisper against her ear, "You're wet already, are you not? You get off on infuriating me. My humiliation. My lack of control. My anger." He teased his fingers between her soaked flesh, gathering her arousal, and using it to rub hard circles over her. She could hear the noises in the quiet room, as she shuddered in pleasure.

Her body moved against his hand for more friction, her hips rhythmic. The commander descended to his knee and took hold of her leg, bringing it to rest upon his thigh. The fabric of her leggings tore open at the crotch, as he shoved her panties aside, and brought his dark painted lips to taste the mess she'd created. He moaned appreciatively, pushing his tongue past her entrance, darting in and out, until she was trembling.

The hand that was placed on her thigh lifted it up so that it could rest over his shoulder. The forceful motion sent her backwards onto the mattress. Half her body was off the edge of the bed, as he continued tracing over her with his tongue. The incessant flicks had her spiraling close to her release, when he stopped purposefully to shed himself of his cloak. His naked chest was a sight to behold. The much larger frame of the Kree was defined and well-built.

The bed sank down, as he pressed his hands beside her head, and settled his weight atop of her. Black paint followed the heated path of his kisses, as he removed the rest of her clothing, leaving the Inhuman to feel vulnerable. She was a blank canvas, already healed from the previous nights of their coupling. It was one thing he didn't appreciate about her ability. The Kree lamented on it, as he dragged his short nails over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her legs were spread wider with the action, as a sharp cry fell from her lips.

He was still clothed from the waist down, the rough material of his pants were pressed against her exposed skin, and would no doubt smell like her from the way he was intimately grinding his hips into hers. He wanted her to feel how hard he was, how affected, and ready he was to take her. The feel of her heat through the material was maddening.

_'Another wife,' _his mind sneered at her.

"I like the way you cry for me," He said lowly, brushing his words across her mouth. There was a dark tension to him, as he stared down at her. "The way your chest starts to heave, as you gasp for air. I like how tight you feel around me, squeezing me as you come…hard." He flicked his tongue out against her parted lips, teasing her, "Not even the wolves would be able to resist the way you taste."

The Kree pinned her hands to the bed to keep them from roaming, as he pushed into her without warning. She tensed at the feel of his thick length forcing past her muscles and cried when he slammed in the rest of the way, filling her to brim as far as he could go. Her walls clenched tightly around him at the intrusion, attempting to adjust.

"You dare ask me to take another." She turned her face away from his accusation, gasping when she felt his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin beneath her ear. The tip of his tongue ran a line to crevice of her collarbone, where he sucked down in an effort to bruise her delicate skin. He wouldn't stop, until he tasted her blood, "Your body will know mine, in the next life, and the life after that…"

He withdrew his hips nearly all the way, before he slammed back in – going harder and deeper. There were moments where their lovemaking was tentative and slow, but he needed her to understand it in measurements, depths, inches, and angles. It was words that he could not say, the selfish demands of his cruel nature. He could not find another, he would not. He couldn't comply with her foolish requests.

He knew that she would die and live again, accepting it the best way that he could. He had specifically tried not to love her. He spent years without seeing her face or hearing her voice. Now he needed it. He craved for the simplest of touches, the comfort of her body, and the warmth that came from knowing her – his Inhuman.

The Kree had plenty of things to fear. What if she would not love him? He had spoken with confidence, knowing how easy it would be to coerce her into a physical relationship. It would take nothing to bend any female to his will, but love was something else entirely. And he knew more than anyone how difficult he was to love.

What if she was not the same?

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** Entry 05 / Years remaining: 01**

She wasn't mindful of the date or the time. The Inhuman insisted upon ignoring the dwindling moments of her precious life. Time was dying, as was she, but she didn't feel any different. She felt quite strong, actually. It really made no sense at all. There were times where she felt contented with her fate, thinking that death comes with every living being. It was natural.

The Kree do not determine date and time with calendars or clocks. No – they could feel it, rather, taste it, and see it unraveling all around them. The moonlight flowers were in bloom and the air was heavier, sweeter on the tongue. The small changes that a foreigner wouldn't be able to notice were all too obvious to its inhabitants.

Today was the Inhuman's birthday. It was the last day, nearly gone. The commander fought hard to not make it known to her. It was a bitter feeling, like there was something hollow buried at the pit of his stomach. He respected her decision to not know, but felt the need to cave into his own bout of helplessness. She would die and there was nothing that he would be able to do then, except to watch it happen.

He traced over the years they had spent together, sorting through them as though they were the fine details of a mission report. The Kree wondered if it had all been worth it for her. He'd spent so much time on research that had only brought them to dead ends. He hadn't accepted her fate, he still didn't, and he wouldn't, until he found a cure.

_ 'I want to be raised with you as a dream, a story, a fantasy…' It was one of her terms. She did not want to live with him, noting that it would be inappropriate all things considered and that it could ruin the way she viewed him. She wanted a free life on Xandar. She wanted to roam the skies with the Guardians. 'I don't want to know that I'll die. I only wish to know that I can heal others. Maybe I'll become something great.' _

_ 'You already have…' he murmured, as he tilted his head at her adoringly. He was fixated on her lips, as she spoke. Her voice was soothing on his nerves. He was unable to lose his temper. He knew that they would have to come to this conversation eventually. _

Ronan stared out at his Inhuman, watching her spread her arms out towards the breeze. The loose fabric of her gown fluttered at its force. It wasn't a natural wind – he could feel her power, shifting the air around them. It was a lovely feeling, as she had learned to control it without inflicting pain.

He stood up from his spot at his desk and joined her by the window, wrapping his strong arms around her, so that her back was flush against his hard chest. He pressed lingering kisses to the side of her neck, breathing her in.

_ 'In my journals, I don't address it as me, talking to myself.' She looked away from him and opened up to the first page of one of the older books. He roamed his eyes over the first few sentences and stared at her._

She turned in his arms, placing her hands at the sides of his face, kissing him softly in response. He could feel her energy pulsing through him like an electric current. He felt both frightened and hungry for her. He felt desperate, like he was drowning. A gasp – a sob, her tears were warm against his skin.

_ 'Tell everyone that I'm sorry, but it would be better for them to play along, for my sake.' They needed to follow the journal, so that she could protect herself from feeling this way again. There was so much agony in her heart. 'I love you, Ronan.'_

_ He hated it. All of it. He refused to meet her gaze, even when he considered how difficult it must've been for her to think these things, let alone execute them so effectively. _

_ She smiled at him, 'Look at me.'_

"I love you…" she whispered across his lips, as a light shot down and seized her in its grip. Ronan's arms tightened around her, watch as her mouth opened in a silent scream. This was what he witnessed time and time again, a light that broke through the clouds and into the galaxy – a beacon that claimed her life. And when it finally faded away, they both fell to the floor.

He jerked her forward, so that she was strewn over his lap, her hair in long waves resting over her face. He brushed them away gently and searched for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there. A scream of rage wanted to tear from the back of his throat, but he clenched his teeth instead. His body shook violently, as he lifted her to his chest and buried his face into her neck.

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**Epilogue: **  
**A/N:** Italics is what she was thinking when she wrote the journal entry. It's not AS it's written.

I decided to keep a diary, because well, you're going to need it. _I'm_ _afraid of what might happen to me, unless I'm guided._ As your **mother**, I feel that it is important to leave you with some advice. _What advice would I have for myself?_ Do not fight what you are, as well as who you are. _Don't be afraid anymore_. What are you? You are loved. _He loved me and he'll love the new me, right?_ Who are you? You're the Inhuman. You heal and revive other beings. _It may get dangerous and annoying, because I have powers._ You are promised to a special person. _We're married._ Please, give him a chance. _Please,_ _make sure that he is loved._

"This is unreasonable," the girl sighed, as she crumbled up a paper riddled with formulas and tossed it in the nearby garbage. "Screw university and this thesis."

Taria Dey laughed at her bestfriend with a shake of her head, "You need to calm down."

A slice cake was placed down in front of the Inhuman and she narrowed her eyes at it. "What is this?" She knew what day it was and why, she just wasn't expecting to celebrate. She found herself disliking the yearly occasion for some odd reason.

"Your birthday cake, you weirdo. Did you forget?" The red skinned woman was all too happy to finally take her friend out drinking. Her fuchsia colored eyes stared into her for a long moment, watching her drift away. "You're eighteen now. Xandarian law states…"

"That I can legally drink," she finished, whilst tucking away her paperwork. She was already an active student, working day and night at the lab, although she felt more useful at the hospital, healing the sick and reviving the dead. "I think I'll sit this one out. Go, have fun, be twenty-four. Don't let me slow you down."

"Fine. At least have a bite of this cake with me." She retrieved a set of forks when the girl agreed and they dug into the slice. It was from a sweet potato cake with whipped frosting, a known favorite of hers. "Oh, and don't forget to call Dad."

Rhomann Dey had taken the Inhuman in when she was an infant, caring for her along with his wife and daughter. The journal that was left behind by her 'mother' was given to her at the age of five. It was pretty to look at, the handwriting, and the dried flowers. There was so much love between each page.

The girl turned the lights off after she was done using the lab and started on the long walk home. With the addition of her music, it wasn't too bad. She grabbed herself a sparkler, liking the way it made her tongue tingle and her nostrils burn. She stopped in the middle of an empty street to answer her phone when it went off, a projection of Peter Quill beaming back at her with a wolfish grin.

"Happy Birthday, kiddo."

"It would have been better in person," she said, flatly. She hadn't seen the Guardians in two years. "But I suppose I should be used to it by now."

"Whoa, whoa. Where is all of this angst coming from?" He leaned in closer, squinting at her curiously. "Tell me who it is and I'll light them up."

Gamora swatted at the back of his head, gaining a scowl. "We have already made course to come and see you, but it won't be until morning."

Her face lit up a little at the news, "Really?"

"Really," Gamora repeated, as she took hold of the phone in Peter's hand. "We'll see you soon…" The ex-assassin smiled at her, "Happy Birthday."

The light from the call went out and she was alone again. At least she had something fun to look forward to in the morning. She planned her night, intending to take another look at the journal, before showering, and going to bed. It was a birthday ritual – reading the journal. She'd heard many stories about her mother, that she was brave, and kind. She didn't feel like any of those things. She felt like something was missing, she just didn't know what exactly.

_ 'Your mother died when she was young,' Gamora told her one evening when the girl had been prying. She wanted more answers. 'When she found out that she didn't have much time left, she started to live. She was beautiful.' _

_ 'And my father?' She asked, having read the pages of the journal inside and out, but there was never any mention of him anywhere. _

_ 'Dead.' Gamora was able to spin a rather convincing story revolving around the day Xandar almost fell. Although the Inhuman had saved many lives, not all had been recovered. She painted the father as someone who was the perfect match. He was a hero, fighting to protect her mother, and was buried beneath one of the ships that had dived down._

A broad figure stepped out in front of her path, causing her to stop midway. The moon did little to illuminate his features, but she could tell that he was Kree and that his attire would suggest some form of military standing. What was a Kree doing on Xandar? The girl decided against lingering on the thought.

She stepped to the side, planning to walk on ahead, when he mimicked her movement. She tried again to the opposite side, watching as he followed. She glared up at him, as she released an exasperated sigh.

"What are you –?" He grabbed her forearm and brought her closer to him. She was close enough to kill or to taste. Ronan honestly didn't know which one he wanted to do to her first. She had the same exact face, the same voice, the same smell. Her manners though, were a thing that would have to be adjusted with time.

"Happy birthday, Inhuman…" His breath was sweet, as it filled her lungs. _Inhuman. _She could see him better, once he'd practically yanked her beneath one of the streetlights. Dark purple eyes had her pinned to the spot, unable to move, or to even think properly.

"D-Do I know you?" She managed to ask, finding her voice again.

"More than that, you were promised to me." He was serious when he said it, seeing her as his wife, and not as a stranger. Eighteen years. He slid his fingers through her short silky hair, mourning over the change.

"You're that special person, then?" She laughed coolly, coming to her senses. That was the part in the journal that pissed her off the most. Her mother had sold her away to some guy, a Kree. He was handsome, sure, but she wasn't just going to obey those written words. "I didn't agree to such terms, therefore, you can consider yourself burden free."

Yet he was still touching her and she made zero effort to move away from it. Instead, she felt an uncomfortable pain in her chest. She hit it lightly in an attempt to relieve it. The same pain would come and go randomly at times. She just never knew why it happened. What the hell was this guy? She finally succeeded in pulling herself free from him, gaining some distance.

"You can't show up expecting me to just fall for this…" She gestured over him with a look of skepticism. "Announcing yourself like you're my destiny."

"I have remained patient, to which I should inform you that it is not one of my known qualities." He had her pressing herself into the wall, as he stepped closer to her. The rough surface was digging into her skin and she knew that she couldn't escape. He towered above her then, tall and exceedingly intimidating.

"Even if I believed you, I'm taken." It was a harmless lie, but there was something that told her to keep it going.

"Taken? By whom? One of the unspoken crushes you keep to yourself or is it your short, yet tasteful declines to your admirers from the lab? You are alone. There's a quaking sensation in your chest. A silent tell that there's something missing. It's like you'll suffocate, but what's one more moment?" He took a step away from her and smirked as she followed after him, hanging onto his every word. "You have gone so long feeling empty, yearning to be filled."

She tilted her head at him, a sad smile pulling on her lips, "How did you know that…"

He outstretched his hand to her, "Because you belong to me. Let me prove it to you."

It was funny. She'd been told many things when it pertained to her upbringing, but for once she felt like she'd heard the truth. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she would pay for it tomorrow. But as for the moment, she wanted to believe him.

She placed her hand in his palm and was instantly brought to her toes, gasping from the sudden, sharp movement. The feel of her in his arms again felt like shackles were unlocked from his wrists. He lowered his face to hers, watching as her eyelids fluttered shut. It would be a first kiss for the Inhuman, one that she would so readily give into for no logical reason. His sad, sweet girl.

"Don't fight it…" He breathed across her lips, before he leaned down the rest of the way, and claimed her mouth gently. She felt an overwhelming sense of rightfulness that she could not explain and didn't have the courage to understand. Hot tears trailed past her cheeks and between their lips, where he sucked at them greedily. The touch of his tongue caused her to gasp, as it parted her lips, and delved in pleasurable strokes.

He pulled back enough so that he could stare down into her eyes, looking for traces of doubt. "You took my hand, Inhuman, and you should know that I won't be giving it back." He wiped at the tears beneath her lower lashes and breathed her in with the next kiss, making sure to fill his lungs with her.

"When you say Inhuman…" She kept her eyes closed, terrified by what she was feeling. She wanted more of whatever it was. "I don't know why, but it sounds familiar. No one calls me that, unless they want an elbow to the ribs."

"Inhuman…" He cooed softly to her in response, grabbing the sides of her face, and bringing her up for another kiss, leaving her dizzy.

_ 'Come find me on my eighteenth birthday,' The Inhuman said, fingers running over his bare shoulder, and pressing a kiss there. The freckles were distracting. 'Insist that I'm yours! Hold your hand out to me and promise me everything right then and there.'_  
_  
'What woman in her right mind would fall for such a thing?' He scoffed at the idea, not at all confident in her suggested approach. It would be her, not some stranger. He wouldn't risk scaring her away. _

_ 'It seemed to work well on me the first time,' she said, while beaming back a smile when it sank in for him._

She laughed, giving a small shake of her head. "I'm sorry. And you are?" She was just now asking that question.

Dark lips turned up into a knowing smirk, "Ronan."

"Ronan," she repeated, liking the way it rolled off her tongue. She stood up on her toes and leaned in for the next kiss. The feel of his soft lips melted her through, until she was gasping for air. She was innocent and without experience, he was relieved to realized, as he stroked his thumb over her flushed skin.

"It's time to go home." He said, whilst lacing their fingers together, and pulling her along. 'Home. Yeah, right,' she thought bitterly. She'd never felt at home anywhere she'd ever been, including being onboard with her Guardians. "Back to Hala, where there are Exolon maids waiting to fuss over you. Dresses that you'll despise. Biscuits that you'll pretend to enjoy."

"No sparklers?" She asked curiously, peering up at him.

"Absolutely not." He squeezed her hand at the familiar craving.

"Well, that totally blows."

He sucked in a breath and turned to her sharply, clamping his thumb and forefinger down on her bottom lip. "Your manners, Inhuman, are in need of correcting."

There was no control for him. None.

He'd found her stranded in Hell, the very same one he'd been locked away in, until this very moment. The beautiful canary that he knew so well, finally freed from her cage, except now he saw the same steel bars in front of him. When he was caged, he had no idea, but it had become apparent to him, as his selfish hunger grew. For her love and her light, he would bend for her. His Inhuman was such a sad, yet powerful creature to watch, oblivious to the quiet danger of his devotion.

It was back to the Canary's Cage, where they remained enslaved to one another, bound by their fate, and persevering through the promise of unchanging love.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
